Son of a Hunter II: Operation Sherwood
by I Am The Ox
Summary: Part two of my "Son of a Hunter" trilogy, following on from "The Story of Steven Muldoon". My version of the Jurassic Park storyline, following the adventures of Bob Muldoon's son, Steve, and some of the characters from the first film. Contains dinosaurs, British badassery and top quality banter, what what. If you want a break from the new film, this is for you!
1. Night Terrors

**Part 2: Operation Sherwood**

_London calling to the faraway towns, now war is declared, and battle come down, London calling to the underworld, come out of the cupboard, you boys and girls…_

The distant music floated on the wind, weaving its way between the trees of Hyde Park and eventually reaching the ears of Steven Muldoon. He turned up his collar against the brisk December breeze, cast a rueful glance to the skies and continued on his way home.

The sound of The Clash gradually faded as Steve left Hyde Park and made his way through the darkening East London streets. Streetlights began to ignite as he walked, each casting an individual, insignificant cone of light against the winter gloom. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed as a fire engine threaded its way through the rush hour traffic, no doubt on a mission to perform some act of heroism.

_Heroism. Look where heroism gets you._

The bitter thought flashed through the young man's mind. He was a young man indeed now, at 18 years of age. Two years since he was orphaned.

_Two whole years._

When stated in such a fashion it sounded like a long time, but the events of that fateful weekend on the _Isla Nublar_ felt like they had occurred only yesterday. The physical pain had subsided long ago, but the mental pain was still there – as strong as ever, along with a tremendous sense of loss… A crippling feeling of emptiness that inescapably followed him throughout his every waking moment, and most of his sleeping ones.

Steve had despised his time in Hospital during the immediate aftermath of the _Isla Nublar_ incident. He could remember waking up for the first time, aware of the uncanny sensation of being somehow distanced from his aching, battered body. People had been there, smartly dressed ones, sitting at the foot of his bed. One of them had asked how he was feeling, before inquiring if Steve would mind answering a few questions. Steve had nodded groggily, but was not expecting the barrage of questions that followed. Slowly, he had answered them as best he could - they were mainly geared around Jurassic Park, what he had seen, what he had done. This had brought home to Steve the fate of his father, the realisation sweeping over him like a tide and causing the tears saved from outside the maintenance shed to flow. Despite this, the questioning had continued and Steve, distressed and confused, gave increasingly vague answers until at last a doctor arrived and chased the suited men away.

Steve had been discharged from Hospital several weeks later and immediately flown to a large InGen complex in Washington – Steve couldn't remember where exactly, his memory was increasingly blurred from this point onwards. He was taken into a building that felt uncomfortably like the administration centre, back on the _Isla Nublar_. He had been ushered into a small office where several executives were waiting for him – Steve recognised a few of them as the same people that had questioned him in Hospital. He was told that his services as warden were no longer required, due to the immediate closure of the Jurassic Park enterprise. Of course, Steve had immediately asked what was being done about his father's death, but was instantly shown a clause in his contract detailing that any incident involving Muldoon senior would result in instant termination of Steve's contract, no questions asked. There was also a clause regarding secrecy, stating that all employees were subject to certain signatory acts that the Muldoons had apparently agreed to – Bob had always joked about reading the small print. Dumbfounded, Steve had demanded to see John Hammond but was told, in so many words, to get lost.

Steve still had nightmares about this ordeal – possibly even more so than the actual happenings on the _Isla Nublar_. After all, he had been brought up as a hunter, and facing dinosaurs in combat was no different to taking down a bloated man-eater. But this complete and utter abandonment was something else altogether – in every sense of the word, he was alone, and this scared him far more than any Reptilian horror ever could.

Steve had never told anyone about his nightmares, nor his past for that matter. Even if InGen hadn't sworn him to secrecy, there was nothing to be gained from grassing the company up – besides, who in their right mind was going to believe an 18-year-old refuse collector of dubious national tax authenticity. That was what he was reduced to now, of course – Steve no longer led the demanding life of a game warden. Instead, he spent his days traipsing the streets of old London town, tracking nothing more dangerous than Poodles and hunting only tin cans and crisp packets – objects not known for their deadly nature.

_Living the dream._

Although Steve had lost almost all of his possessions on the Isla Nublar, his passport and savings had been kept on the mainland by InGen and subsequently returned to him. The money had been just enough to buy him a flight to Heathrow and rent him a grubby little East London flat. He considered it better just to lay low and get on with life after Jurassic Park, not to mention life after Bob Muldoon. Steve had been brought up to take care of himself and had no problem staying alive – it was just the absence of a friendly face that was the issue.

Steve was nearing the end of his short walk through the maze of residential streets and back alleys that lead to the estate containing his abode. The final passageway was the longest and coincidently the darkest, as the watery winter sun had almost completely faded into black by the time he reached it. He entered the alley and strode on, hunching his shoulders against the freezing wind that was funnelled down the urban valley of tower blocks and multi-story car parks.

Steve was about half way down the passageway when he noticed them at first – a group of about six youths, each brandishing a small bottle in hand and frequently taking swigs of the liquid contained within. Somehow, Steve doubted that it was orange juice.

He considered his next move; the gang were at the far end of the alley, meaning that he could easily turn back and take the long way round to his estate. A while ago, Steven Muldoon would have simply walked on and taken his chances with the gang – after all, this was the man who fought rogue Lions, rampaging Elephants and escaped Velociraptors for living, so a drunken group of kids should pose no threat to him whatsoever. But now things were different, and the thought of carrying on didn't even cross Steve's mind. Something had changed in the young man in the aftermath of Jurassic Park – it was as if a part of him had been left behind on that tropical island he knew so well. A part of him he had never recovered.

The cold wind whipping about him, Steve wearily turned on his heel and retraced his steps out of the alley. As he neared the end of passage, he heard a noise from behind and glanced back over his shoulder – there was some kind of disturbance among the youths.

It seemed a figure had entered the alley from the end nearest the gang and walked slap bang into them. The figure was a boy of about fourteen and looked to be carrying a rucksack. Steve could hear raised voices and, as far as could make out, the youths wanted something from the newcomer. Apparently, this something was not delivered, and a scuffle broke out. The fight didn't last long and the boy was soon pinned against the wall by two of the gang members, while the others went through his rucksack. Then, there was an exclamation of tipsy triumph as one of the searchers pulled out a small item and waved it aloft. Steve was frozen; he could do nothing more than stand there and watch, his fascination similar to when he had watched the Tyrannosaur devour the trouser-less lawyer two years ago – except this time, in a situation where he could possibly be of greater use, doing nothing.

At this point, the boy said something that obviously angered his captors and received a punch for his troubles. The two holding him shoved him to the floor and unleashed a barrage of kicks, the kid curling up in an attempt to protect himself from the violent onslaught. One of the other youths eventually pulled the two attackers away from their victim and the group moved out of the alley, laughing amongst themselves and smashing their bottles on the ground.

Finally, Steve shook himself out of his daze. He took off back down the alley in the direction of the gang, moving faster than he had done for a very long time. He soon reached the crumpled body of the boy, who was struggling to stand.

"You okay?" Steve asked guiltily.

The kid ignored him and scrabbled about for his rucksack, his hand eventually clasping the straps. He finally managed to get to his feet and stumbled off into the night, back the way he had come just minutes before, leaving Steve standing in the alley, alone with his thoughts.

_Shit._

Steve stared at the ground and saw blood – lots of blood. He cursed soundly and kicked the wall in frustration.

_What the hell is happening to me!_

Steve stood there for a few seconds before trudging out of the alley, glancing around for any trace of the boy or the gang more in hope than expectation. Of course, there was nothing to be seen.

He made his way up the external stairway at the back of his apartment block, the wind doing its best to rip him from the metal framework, and walked seven doors down. The eighth was his. His frozen hands fumbled with his keys and, as the first flecks of snow began to fall, he let himself in and slammed the door shut behind him.

The interior of the apartment was dark and Steve felt his way into the tiny kitchenette, his fingers following the wall until he reached the light switch. The lights buzzed on dimly, illuminating most of the apartment. He worked his way around turning on the lights, knowing which ones had working bulbs. This didn't take the young man long – there were only four rooms as such, separated by thin partition walls.

Steve removed his orange work jacket and threw it deftly onto a peg behind the door. As he did so, he saw there were three envelopes sitting on the doormat.

_Strange… Who knows I live here?_

He picked the three letters up and sat down on his grimy sofa. The first letter contained an invoice, demanding that he pay the outstanding rent on his flat, or else. Truth be told, Steve had been receiving these letters for weeks and nothing had happened – he hoped it would stay that way, at least until payday.

The second letter was encased in a spotless white envelope, of the kind often employed by legal firms, seeming very out of place in Steve's current surroundings. He ripped the letter open with a flourish, half expecting to find a court summons inside. Instead, he discovered the envelope contained a folded piece of A4 and a smaller, rectangular piece of thick paper.

Steve unfolded the A4 and took an involuntary intake of breath. The logo in the top right corner was that of InGen. The creators of Jurassic Park. His old employers. The company his father had lost his life serving.

_How the hell did they know where to find me?_

Needless to say, this was the first time Steve had received any sort of communication from the genetics company – he imagined they had conveniently forgotten he existed, especially considering the terms on which they parted. He hastily began to read the document.

_Dear Mr. Muldoon,_

_I hope this finds you well._

_I am writing to most humbly request your consultation upon a matter of the utmost importance. Unfortunately the nature of this advice is such that you will be required to attend a meeting at my place of residence, but please rest assured, your service fee will be more than adequate. In fact, I am offering you the sum of twenty thousand dollars in cash to be provided upon your arrival. I trust that you will not let me down._

_I have included in this correspondence an aeroplane ticket to Washington D.C. and have also taken the liberty of arranging a private chauffeur to collect you from the airport and transport you to my abode upon the arrival of your flight._

_Yours sincerely,_

_John Hammond_

_C.E.O._

_InGen Corp._

Steve had to read the letter again, and then once more before it sunk in.

_Firstly; what an utter, utter bastard._

_Secondly; why on earth would he ask for my help after all this time?_

_Thirdly; when it was me in trouble, he wouldn't even face me like a man. Palmed me off like a bloody stray dog. But when it's the other way round, he expects me to come running!_

_Fourthly; but twenty thousand dollars?! I could pay my rent for years with that and still have enough to buy a proper telly…_

Bewildered, Steve took a closer look at the smaller piece of paper – it was indeed an airline ticket, from London Heathrow to Washington. The date of the flight was, funnily enough, tomorrow.

_The question really is, do I want to get involved with InGen and that wanker Hammond again? Probably better to keep away from him and his shitty corporation, healthier too…_

Steve could think of plenty of reasons either way, but eventually the rent invoice, lying discarded on the table, caught his eye – and in particular, the line that read "Final Notice: Outstanding Payment".

_Well then, looks like I don't have a bloody choice. Can't risk getting turfed out of this old place, I've nowhere else to go._

Steve came to a reluctant conclusion. He tossed the letter down and walked over to a large cupboard, secured with a combination padlock. This was the only object in the flat that belonged to Steve; the other furnishings (if they could be described as such) came along with the apartment.

Steve set the tumblers on the well-worn padlock to the correct position – the numbers read 7734 – and it slipped open with a slight click. Inside, the apparently unremarkable cupboard contained all of Steve's worldly possessions: his passport and documents, an envelope containing a small quantity of loose change, an old alarm clock, a pair of white overalls (courtesy of the hospital), a couple of t-shirts, his combat trousers &amp; hunting belt, Bob Muldoon's hat, a pocketbook and a small plastic card.

The latter two objects had been gifts from the Murphy children – they had visited Steve shortly after he woke up in hospital. Obviously under orders, they had awkwardly thanked him for his help and wished him well before being ushered out by two people Steve assumed to be their parents. However, despite drifting in and out of consciousness, Steve distinctly remembered Lex distracting her mum and dad by pointing out the window, giving Tim a chance to place two small objects on the warden's bedside table. Then, he had hauled his small frame up onto the hospital bed and whispered in Steve's ear, "When you're better, come and see me back home. I want to know all about the Triceratops."

On Steve's bedside table was a small paperback book, entitled "_The Spotter's Guide to Dinosaurs_". Adorably, Tim had written out his full name and address on the inside cover, just in case.

The other object was a small piece of plastic card upon which was inscribed the code "XP-011972", along with the Jurassic Park logo. Steve supposed Lex must have taken it from the control room before things got greasy and figured he should have it back.

Steve picked up the book and carefully turned the pages. On each there was a picture of a dinosaur, along with a paragraph on the depicted animal's characteristics. Steve smiled as he saw the faded pencil tick beside the picture of a Triceratops for the umpteenth time – Tim had seen that one.

Steve reached deeper into the cupboard and pulled out the alarm clock, padlocked the doors shut and consulted the airline ticket again, setting the hands on the clock accordingly. He stood for a moment, preparing himself; then hit the light switch and slumped down on the sofa, instantly falling into a fitful sleep.

_There were lights above his head, extremely bright ones, their brilliant glare mirrored in his eyes – he wasn't sure how he knew that…_

_He suddenly became aware there were people standing by his bed talking, just out of his field of vision, but try as he might, he could not hear what was being said…_

_He tried to crane his neck and catch a glimpse, but this effort was brought up short by an almost material wall of agony searing through his body. His body? He couldn't feel his legs! He tried kicked out in fright, desperately attempting to reassure himself his limbs were still there. Sure enough, more pain exploded through his semi-consciousness. Steve was forced to keep still, the throbbing subsiding slightly as he did so…_

_Listening out, he noticed the voices by his bed had changed pitch – they were getting closer. He realised they were angry, but he couldn't for the life of him make out the words…_

_The speech echoed round his head, seeming to bounce off the walls of his skull. He knew he must have cried out in terror because the voices immediately began to recede, replaced by the feeling of strong hands gripping his body. They held him tighter and tighter still, He shook himself frantically, ignoring the returning agony but to no avail – they wouldn't let go! Exhausted, he summoned one last rush of energy and rolled over and over, falling down, away from those sharp, vicious hands…_

****Thump****

Steve woke up on the floor.


	2. Appointment in Washington

The sleek limousine glided through the rush-hour traffic, its elegant black exterior emblazoned with the InGen logo in multiple locations. Inside, Steve was sitting on the back seat, contemplating his appointment with Mr John Hammond.

_Seems like he's laying it on pretty thick. What the bloody hell is this all about?_

Steve had been picked up promptly from his abode in London and whisked away to the airport, from where he had flown first class to Dulles International. Now, he was being driven swiftly out of Washington, apparently on the way to the InGen top dog's private abode. As if to confirm this thought, a manicured voice spoke over the speaker recessed in the footwell.

"Sir, we are about to arrive at Mr Hammond's mansion."

_Thank you, Jeeves._

The car turned a sharp left and drove through a stone archway, a security barrier lifting to allow the car through. They sped down a long gravel driveway and approached a building that was almost too big to describe as a mansion. There were ornate towers, turrets, battlements, and windows, lots and lots of windows.

_Driver must have taken a wrong turning somewhere, this is bloody Buckingham Palace!_

The limousine pulled up outside the main entrance and the chauffeur disembarked, swiftly opening the rear door and offering his hand to help Steve out. He made a point of ignoring the proffered limb and stepped out of the car, making his way up a dramatic stone flight of steps to the porch – the structure looked as if it had been designed to accommodate a family of giants.

_Typical Hammond, always goes for the massive front door. Doesn't matter to him if there's nothing behind it, just as long as there's a nice big way in._

The massive wooden door swung open before Steve even reached it. Standing there was a large man in a not quite so large suit, a tiny waiter's cloth draped somewhat comically over his right shoulder.

"Good evening, Mr Muldoon. Mr Hammond is expecting you. Please follow me."

The butler spoke in a similar manner to the chauffeur, as if his voice had been designed with the sole purpose of accommodating those words – a man born to serve the upper class.

_I bet his name is Smyth-Parker._

Steve obliged and followed the man through a maze of corridors, stairways and halls. Eventually, they stopped at a mahogany door that bore the word "Study" on a plaque. The butler knocked, a voice called from the other side, and the servant opened the door, striding in elegantly.

"Your appointment has arrived, sir." Steve heard the man say, without a trace of emotion. He took a deep breath, and followed the butler in.

The room, like everything else, was huge. One wall was almost entirely taken up by a floor-to-ceiling window and the others were hung with paintings – something told Steve they were all originals. In the centre of the room, John Hammond was sitting behind a desk that was cluttered with papers and instruments. Steve noted with interest that there were no computers present.

"Ah, Mr Muldoon! So glad you could make it!" Hammond guffawed and rose to greet his guest as the butler turned on his heel and strode out. "Please, do sit down. I trust you had a pleasant journey?"

Steve nodded slightly, a little overwhelmed by the plush luxury of his surroundings. He sat down in the chair Hammond indicated, noticing as he did that the floor was covered with an expensive-looking Persian rug.

"You must be hungry, Steven! You don't mind if I call you Steven, do you?" Steve nodded slightly once again; an ambivalent response.

"Excellent, excellent! I'll ring for some provisions." Hammond continued, apparently oblivious to his guest's distrust.

Steve decided that mere silence wasn't going to spark the desired reaction. "Mr Hammond, I'm not sure why…" He began.

"Please, please! I insist you call me John." Hammond cut him off, maintaining his demeanour of jovial host without the blink of an eye.

Steve took a deep breath and continued. "Fine, John." Look, I don't…"

The young man was cut off once again by the re-entry of the butler whom was this time carrying a flamboyant silver tray, laden with food.

"Goddamit." Steve muttered under his breath. Hammond didn't hear, or at least pretended not to.

"Good show, good show." Muttered Hammond as the butler set the tray down on the desk. "Dig in my dear boy, I have this fine fare specially flown in from Italy!"

Steve watched as Hammond shovelled a generous helping of ice cream into a bowl and waited impatiently for him to finish, frustration beginning to well up inside him. At last, Hammond finished his plate and daintily wiped his mouth on a silk handkerchief.

"Now, down to business. I know you must be wondering why I sent for you."

Now it was Steve's turn to cut Hammond off.

"You're damn right I am!" He growled, getting to his feet. "You leave me… Hell, completely abandon me for two entire years and then expect me to come running back when you snap your fingers! I had nothing left after Jurassic Park! Absolutely nothing! No money, no job, nowhere to stay, even my dad…" Steve couldn't bring himself to finish that sentence.

Hammond raised a hand for silence. "Steven, you have to understand the position I was in following the failure of the Jurassic Park enterprise. It was hard enough for me to keep InGen from shutting down altogether without having to pay off every single member of my workforce. Even so, I am sorry to say we had to decrease our operations by a third and many of our workers faced redundancy. What's more, your contract clearly stated…"

"To hell with my contract!" Steve exploded, the anger of the past two years rising uncontrollably to the surface. "You had a duty, not just to me, but to everyone who worked on that damn island, and you failed, backed out, hell, chickened out of it! You left me to rot, Hammond!"

Hammond was about to remind Steve to call him John, but thought better of it, instead electing to attempt to appease his ex-employee's anger. The old man struggled to compose a sentence to this end, but Steve beat him to it.

"Look, just tell me what you want me to do, give me the money and then I can get out of here." Steve said quietly, sinking back down into his chair. The rant hadn't been as satisfying as he had been envisaging.

Hammond spoke. "Well… You see… Things are not quite that simple."

"What do you mean, not simple?" Steve was exasperated more than anything else.

_This had better not have been a bloody wild goose chase._

"You wrote to me asking for advice in return for a large sum of money and fully paid up travel. That sounds pretty damn simple to me." Steve said, his tone mocking.

Hammond held up both hands. "You're right, of course. That was the deal, and I'll see to it that you receive the agreed sum. All I ask is you let me explain something to you first."

Steve sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. "I'm all ears."

"Fine, fine." Hammond murmured, standing up and crossing to the window, his body silhouetted in the evening light that filtered into the room. He composed himself, and then began to speak.

"Tell me, Steven, do you remember exactly how we created the dinosaurs for Jurassic Park? By mixing Amphibian DNA with the material we extracted from prehistoric mosquitoes, preserved in amber?"

Steve nodded cautiously. As part of the introduction to their game warden duties, Steve and Bob had been taken on the semi-complete laboratory tour.

Hammond continued. "Well, a few weeks ago, I received a letter. It was signed by a gentleman who referred to himself as _'El Pero Sucio_'. Now, this translates as 'The Dirty But', but my people inform me that it is probably a misspelling and was supposed to read 'The Dirty Dog'. Furthermore, we suspect this might be an alias."

Steve rolled his eyes and cut in.

_John Hammond: special subject, the bleedin' obvious._

"Can we get to the point?"

Hammond frowned, but carried on. "Fine, fine. Well, this 'Dirty Dog' individual was interested in purchasing a number of DNA patterns; advanced versions of those we used to create the Jurassic Park exhibits."

Steve winced at the use of the word 'exhibits', but allowed the old man to continue.

"He offered both myself and InGen large sums of money in return for the special patterns and demonstrated an impressive knowledge of our research; worryingly enough, research that we have never knowingly published. Of course, we could never accept such an offer without potentially jeopardising national security, so naturally we turned it down out of hand."

_That's never seemed to bother him before._

"I don't see a problem here?" Steve said, more than a little confused as to why he was being told this.

"There was no problem. At least, not until last week, when we received this…" The old man went back to his desk and dug around in a heap of papers, finally fishing out a crisp white page with a few lines of indecipherable text written upon it. Hammond passed it to Steve, who took a closer look and realized the writing was in Spanish.

Steve looked up. "You know very well I don't speak native."

Hammond leant over and looked at the sheet. "Damn, wrong one… Now where's that translation got to…"

He began hunting around on his desk again but gave up a moment later.

"Look, the gist of it was something like this… 'If you continue to refuse to sell us the goods, we will be forced to take persuasive measures. These actions will be ruthless and without mercy. If you continue to resist we regret that harm and woe will darken upon your door.'"

Steve snorted in derision. "Who the hell does this guy think he is, 'harm and woe will darken upon your door', absolute tosser. Why are you even taking this seriously?"

Hammond's face was grave. "Because I found this message on my private computer. I am the only one who has access to the passwords and it is not connected to a network, meaning the message could not have been placed there remotely."

Steve frowned. "So you're the only one who could have left it there, and I'm guessing you didn't… So who else could it be?"

"There are very few people who even know of my machine's existence, as it accommodates my most private project files. It could only have been one of my most trusted aides." Hammond replied.

"An inside job, then." Steve asserted.

"By all accounts, it looks that way." Said Hammond. "Anyway, despite this, I still turned down two further offers from 'The Dirty Dog' to buy my patterns, believing my private security firm would keep myself and my corporation safe. Ah, how foolish I was!" Hammond stood up and began pacing up and down in front of the window again.

"What do you mean? You're still here, alive and kicking." Said Steve.

"I may well be." Replied Hammond quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But they've taken my grandchildren."

Steve was silent for a moment, stunned.

He's got to be winding me up! But surely he wouldn't joke about losing those kids, not after nearly getting them killed once already?

Hammond continued, perhaps sensing Steve's disbelief. "I idiotically supposed that 'Dirty Dog' meant all the harm and woe would darken upon my actual door rather than my proverbial on; regrettably, not the first stupid mistake I have made in the past decade."

The old man's voice broke and he had to compose himself for a moment.

"Two days ago, Alexis and Timothy were picked up from outside their school by three men, apparently identifying themselves as InGen employees sent by me. One hour later, I received another message, this time through my drawing room window. Except, this time it was not a polite request, or even a threat. It was a ransom demand. This 'Dirty Dog' fellow and his associates want the six complete DNA sample patterns delivered to them in one week, at a certain spot in the Cabo Blanco Nature Reserve, Costa Rica. They say I must make the exchange in person if I ever want to see the kids alive again…"

Hammond broke down.

Steve was slumped in his chair, hands on head. "My God, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Have you gone to the police?"

Hammond shook his head. "No, I can't go to them… They threatened to hurt my grandchildren if I informed the authorities of the ransom, and I simply couldn't allow even the smallest chance of that."

"But how are they going to know? The bloke can't even spell his own alias!" Steve asked.

"Steven, think. I found one of the messages on my personal computer. They must have turned someone extremely close to me. They will know."

The young man exhaled deeply. "Then it looks like your only option is to turn up with those samples. Which brings me back to the question… Why am I here?"

Hammond sighed. It looked as if he was suddenly carrying the weight of the world upon his shoulders, even more so that usual.

"Unfortunately, there's a problem. I don't actually have the samples in my possession..."

Steve was incredulous. "And you didn't think to tell them this?!"

Hammond's reply was sheepish. "First rule of business, give out only the bare minimum of information…"

"Unbelievable." Steve shook his head in disbelief. "Is there any way of letting them know now?"

Hammond shook his head again. "They left no means to contact them, and even so, there would be no guarantee they would return Alexis and Timothy unharmed."

Steve had run out of ideas. "Well, this is terrible and all, but I still don't see why you asked me to come all the way out here… I'm not much of an Agony Aunt."

"An Agony Aunt, no… But a Jurassic Park warden, yes." Replied Hammond quietly.

"And just what do you mean by that?" Asked Steve."

"I never said the DNA samples do not exist, I merely said that they are not in my immediate possession." Hammond replied evenly. "In fact, I have a fairly good idea of where they are located. The only problem is, that location is the storage room of our main genetic modification laboratory - which, unfortunately, happens to be situated on the _Isla Nublar_."

Hammond gave Steve a funny look, but the ex-warden could only gaze back blankly – until the penny dropped.

"Oh God, no! No, no, no! NO! I will NOT go back to that hellhole! No, never! Not even for that! I can't! I'm sorry, but no!"

Still muttering negatives, Steve got up to leave, thoroughly shaken and in the grip of an irresistible urge to vacate the study and get as far away from the problems of Mr John Hammond as was humanly possible.

As Steve was about to open the door, a soft voice reached his ears. "Look, Steven, I'm… Sorry about your father. He was a good man. A great man, at that."

Steve stopped, his hand on the door handle, and nodded slightly, fighting back tears at the mention of his late father.

"I'm sorry I asked you to go back there. It's just… The children. I couldn't bear to lose them again. You know how it feels, Steven. You've lost someone you love, and it hurts... It hurts so much. I wouldn't ask someone so young but what choice do I have… Please Steven, I know you must loath me from the bottom of your heart, but I beg you to at least try and understand…Please, just for an old man. If not for me, for them. For the children. Please. Please. Please..." Hammond repeated the last word, getting quieter and quieter. Steve turned and saw the old man slumped down at his desk, head bowed, sobbing softly.

And it was this sight that finished off the already weakened resolve of Steven Muldoon. Somewhere, deep inside, Steve had long been yearning to return to the _Isla Nublar_, to extract his revenge from the bastard Velociraptors and avenge his fallen father, or at least die trying. Now, that dormant part of him was well and truly awake.

"A long time ago..." Steve began, his voice quiet. "I saved a little girl from being eaten by a lion. When I took her home, the villagers said I was a hero, but I was never that."

He stepped away from the door and made his way back towards the desk.

"I was born to do one thing, and one thing only. From that day forward, those villagers spoke of me as the _Simba Wawindaji_; it means 'Lion Hunter' in Swahili. You see, that is what I do. I save people. And I wouldn't change that for the world."

Steve sat down. Hammond rasied his head slightly and locked eyes with the younger man.

"Just so long as it's clear that I'm not doing this for you – I'm doing this for Lex, for Tim, and for that little girl all those years ago. For them, I will be the _Mjusi Wawindaji._ I will be the Lizard Hunter."

Hammond smiled slightly. "Your father would be very proud."

"No, he wouldn't." Returned Steve. "He'd give me a week's late night feeding duty."


	3. Briefing

Hammond led the way down the corridor with Steve in tow. The old man had perked up immediately upon the warden agreeing to go on the expedition and was striding down the corridor with the air of a man half his age. In fact, Steve was beginning to suspect the tears had been something of an act, at least partially concocted by a man used to getting his own way. However, this didn't change the fact that his grandchildren were in mortal danger, so perhaps for once Hammond's methods were justifiable.

"What's the plan?" Steve asked, struggling to keep up with Hammond.

"First things first. We are going to meet your team." Replied Hammond, without breaking stride.

"My team?" Steve repeated.

"Yes, your team. Being the fine young gentleman that you are, I predicted that you wouldn't turn an old man down in his hour of need and took the liberty of preparing a crack retrieval squad prior to your arrival. They are to accompany you to the island and will be entirely under your command; you can trust them absolutely."

_He had it all planned. Once again, I'm just a pawn in his little game._

Hammond prattled on despite Steve's darkening facial expression.

"Now, your equipment has already been sent to Costa Rica and is waiting for you there – I think you will find it most satisfactory. As soon as you and your team are fully briefed, I have a car standing by to take you to the airport. There you can hop on my private jet to _Juan Santamaría _International and you should be there in a few hours. See, everything is under control! Trust me, this will be just like a walk in the park."

_Yeah, right. A walk in Jurassic Park._

Hammond stopped as they reached another grand doorway, this time with the words 'Drawing Room' stencilled upon the door.

"Ready?" Hammond asked.

"As I'll ever be." Steve replied. Hammond pushed open the door and strode inside.

"Gentlemen?" Hammond addressed the occupants of the room. There were five men in various positions around the room, one reading a magazine, one with his eyes shut and boots on the coffee table, two deep in conversation and one looking out of the window. Those that were seated got to their feet as Hammond entered, the man by the window instinctively snapping to attention at the presence of a superior. The door closed with a barely audible *click* as Hammond spoke again.

"Gentlemen, I should like to introduce you to Master Steven Muldoon. He has gallantly agreed to lead our motley crew." Said the old man, addressing the room. The three men standing let out a ragged, and not a little sarcastic, cheer and made their way over.

"Welcome to the party!" Grinned one, a short, stocky fellow in his late twenties with deep blue eyes and a blond buzz cut.

"Glad you could make it, Steve-o!" Steve was incredulous as he recognised the second man as Deputy Warden Mike 'Eddy' Edwards, an old colleague from Jurassic Park. Tall, wiry and in his early thirties, Eddy was a veteran of the South American wildlife park scene and, crucially, had been one of the Velociraptor keepers on the _Isla Nublar_.

"Eddy?! It's great to see you!" The two embraced and shook hands warmly.

"And you, my man! What's it been, two years? I've been tryin' to look you up but couldn't find nothin'!" Eddy replied in his soft Texan drawl. The two had last spoken before the ferry took Eddy off the island on the eve of the storm that ended up costing Bob Muldoon his life.

"Yeah, I've been down in London for a while." The loneliness of the past months and years hit Steve, as it generally did several times a day. Trying not to let it show, he changed the subject swiftly. "But we can catch up later. Seems to me like we've got a job to do."

Eddy nodded in agreement. "That we have."

The Texan turned to the man with the buzz cut beside him. "This here is Lance Corporal Jonathan Williams, aka Doc Johnny. He's gonna be our medic on this 'lil jaunt. Reckon you two'll get along just fine, he's a limey too."

Johnny stuck out a hand, which Steve shook. "Good to meet you skipper." He spoke in a strong South London accent.

"Likewise, Doc. What brings you to this part of the world?" Asked Steve.

"Did six years and two tours in 'er Maj's Royal Marines, then got crocked in a training exercise and wound up getting kicked out – ended up 'ere in sunny D.C. working for Mr Hammond's private security detail. Have a coupla kids myself back 'ome, so when the boss's two went AWOL I volunteered straight up. Decent excuse to get a tan, if nuffink else." Johnny explained cheerfully, his toothy grin remaining as wide as ever.

"Fair enough. Take my advice and make sure you bring plenty of bandages." Said Steve dryly.

"Bangin'. I really 'ope you ain't got no problem with needles!" Johnny replied, his grin somehow growing even larger.

"Bigger the better. Speaking of which…."

Standing to the right of Johnny was a man that could very easily have been mistaken for a small mountain, or reasonable-sized hillock. He was simply vast, both in height and in width; toned muscles bulged from beneath his tight black t-shirt and his shaved head gleamed in the evening sunlight that filtered through the window. He was heavily tanned, possibly of Latin American origin, and wore combat trousers with heavy boots. On the whole, the image was of a gentleman not to be messed with.

"This 'ere, is Roddy." Johnny introduced his large companion.

'Roddy' raised a spade-like right hand and touched his brow respectfully.

"Buenas tardes, señor." He said, his voice husky. "How are you, sir?"

The transition between languages was effortless, but a thick Spanish accent remained.

"Fine, thanks." Steve replied by reflex, still slightly stunned by the sheer presence of the fellow. Hammond, who had been watching the greetings from a short distance, stepped in.

"Mr. Rodriguez will be an invaluable asset to your team. Not only am I assured that he is an accomplished weapons expert, but he is also an excellent mechanic and, as you may have noticed, a native of the area in question.

_He certainly looks a tad like a Brachiosaurus…_

As if he had been waiting for his cue, Rodriguez stuck out his massive hand to be shaken. After a moment's hesitation, Steve took it, and was pleasantly surprised to find the giant's grip not the mangle he had been expecting.

Rodriguez had noticed Steve tensing his arm and lowered his head down to the warden's level, smiling conspiratorially.

"You need not worry señor, I have good reason not to crush your hands. You may need both of them to pay me!"

He let out a short, throaty laugh and stood up straight. Johnny struggled to keep a straight face as Steve looked at Hammond enquiringly, who sighed.

"Mr Rodriguez would describe himself as a private enforcement contractor – he is quite possibly the best in the business."

"So, he's a mercenary." Steve replied cynically, scarcely able to believe his ears.

"'Mercenary' is a strong word..." Hammond began, before Steve cut him off with a grumbled, "You've got to be kidding me."

"Look, I'm sure Mr Rodriguez would have something to say about you doubting his integrity." Hammond finished, casting a hopeful glance at the big Costa Rican.

Apparently, Mr Rodriguez had nothing to say, as he simply shrugged and made off in the general direction of the bathroom. Instead, it was Johnny who spoke. "Roddy's alright mate. You can trust 'im."

Steve shook his head distastefully. "You do realise all he does is kill for money, right?"

Hammond cut in. "At least let me explain that his services have already been fully paid for, and that there's a sizeable bonus awaiting him on successful retrieval of the samples. He stands to lose as much as you do on that island, regardless of his reasons for being there."

Steve raised his hands in conciliation. "Look, whatever. Who's next?"

"Why, that would be Mr Miller." Hammond beamed and led Steve to the man gazing out the window, his steel grey eyes sweeping the outside landscape. As they approached, Miller turned and regarded them both, his face expressionless. He was tall, thin and aged, his hair cut short in a military fashion similar to Johnny's.

"Mr Miller, I should like you to meet Steven, the lad I told you about. He is… was… the son of the head warden on the island."

"Steve." Steve smiled amiably and offered his hand to be shaken. Miller ignored it, instead sweeping his eyes critically up and down Steve, his face cold, calculating. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a temperature similar to his expression.

"At your service, sir." He touched his forehead in a quasi-military salute, the action all but mocking.

"Mr Miller formally served as a Sergeant in the US Army." Hammond addressed Steve, a hint of pride in his voice. "Now, he acts as my personal bodyguard. You can trust him absolutely."

"He doesn't appear to have done a very good job." Steve replied irritably.

"Seems to me like I did my job too well." Miller stepped forward aggressively, all but squaring up to Steve. "Do you have a problem with my credentials, sir?" He spat out the words like a rotten apple.

"Now now boys, I do hope we are not going to have a problem here?" Hammond hovered behind them nervously.

There was silence for a moment as the two faced off, but then Steve turned away.

"No, no problem. Mr Miller and I will get along just fine."

"I'm relieved to hear it!" Hammond chirruped, before guiding Steve over to the last member of the team; the slim gentleman sitting on one of the room's many couches and reading a magazine. Steve guessed him to be in his mid 40s.

"Steven, this is Mr Smith – deputy head of Project Charisma. His DNA samples are the ones you will be looking for." Hammond explained.

Steve inspected the scientist, taking in his pale complexion and eyes that flickered constantly about the room. He couldn't remember ever having seen the man before, which seemed odd considering he was on first name terms with almost everyone who used to work on the _Isla Nublar_. Sure, there had been Smiths aplenty, but almost certainly not this fellow. What's more, Steve was fairly sure he had never had mention of any project codenamed 'Project Charisma'.

_Strange… Must be a lab reference name. Could be something to do with the Pteranodon hatchery perhaps? Those little critters were pretty damn charismatic…_

Steve was about to enquire as to the nature of the DNA but was prevented from doing so by Hammond who, as he often liked to, took on the role of schoolteacher.

The old man clapped his hands twice. "Well, now you've all met Steven, would you kindly take your seats – the show is about to begin."

Hammond moved towards a desk at one end of the room while the team sat down in the chairs arranged in front. As Rodriguez reappeared from the bathroom, Eddy took a seat beside Steve and whispered urgently into his ear.

"When's your Dad comin' in Steve? Is he already in Costa Rica? 'Cos me and him are gonna need to talk."

Steve looked at Eddy sharply. "You what?"

Eddy stared back blankly. "You what, what?"

"You mean he hasn't told you?" Steve asked, stunned.

"Goddamit Steve, told me what?" Eddy asked impatiently.

"My Dad. He's dead. He never made it off the island." Steve said, struggling to keep his voice even.

Now it was Eddy's turn to look back sharply, not quite believing his ears.

"Come again?" He asked, his tone incredulous.

"Dead." Steve repeated simply. "That island's a bad, bad place."

"Bob…" Eddy murmured. The two had become good friends during their time at Jurassic Park, and could often be found sharing a tale or two over a bottle of Old Scotch whiskey.

"Look, Eddy." Steve began, somewhat shakily. "I don't know what else Hammond hasn't told you, but I saw things there. Things happened. I only just made it off alive, me and a just few others." Steve rolled up his sleeve and showed Eddy the scars from his showdown with the Raptors in the control room. The older man shuddered.

"Man… I'm so sorry… I mean, I had no idea… Bob, dead? Can't believe it. Of course I wondered why he never wrote after the island closed down but I never expected… My god... How did it happen?" Eddy was struggling to establish a coherent sentence.

Steve could only shrug. "I don't know." He said simply. "I found his hat and gun outside the power shed in a pool of blood...There was a Raptor there, too. One of the hunters. A young female, I think. It attacked me, but I killed it."

"Woah woah woah… Back up there. You're telling me the Raptors got out?!" Eddy's voice had risen a good octave.

Steve ignored the question. "I can't tell you how big a mistake this mission is… But there are two kids' lives at stake here, and what's done is done. Now I will do my best to fill you in on what we're likely to find, but it's still gonna be a damn site more dangerous than you... Hell, all of you, thought at the beginning, not least because it's been two years since anyone last set foot on that island… We have no idea what's gone on there in that time, what's died, what's evolved…" At that point the lights went down and Hammond began talking, making further conversation impossible.

"First of all, I'd like to thank you all for attending at such short notice." The old man began, picking up a wooden pointer and flicking a switch on his desk. Behind him, a wall panel slid back and a screen flickered into life, displaying a detailed map of the _Isla Nublar_ and surrounding ocean.

"As you know, you have all been brought together with the purpose of retrieving a certain artifact from the laboratories attached to the old Jurassic Park complex. However, as you may be aware, the Costa Rican government seized control of the _Isla Nublar_ following the… *ahem*… Events of two years ago. Now, Costa Rica does not maintain a military force as such, but it does operate a small commando-style unit, known as the UEI. I have intelligence to suggest that this group has been deployed to protect the island from any outside influence; until such time that the government decides what to do with it. For this reason, I have planned an insertion that minimises the risk of your detection."

Johnny raised his hand. "So the locals 'ave boots on the island?" He asked.

"Not so far as we know." Replied Hammond. "The island itself is considered a no-go area and the few patrol ships the mainland can spare will be on station a fair way offshore. We believe they would only enter the immediate vicinity in order to chase away unwanted visitors."

"So just us and an 'andful of dinos!." Said Johnny. "Gotta love it."

"As I was saying." Hammond continued. "The insertion method I have devised revolves around the radar capability of the ships. You see, the UEI's system is such that, while it can detect surface vessels within a fifteen nautical mile radius of the island, it can only detect aircraft within ten miles."

"I don't get it." Eddy spoke up. "Which ever way we go in, we'll still have to get past that ten mile gap."

Hammond shook his head and smiled. "My dear Mr Edwards, this is indeed the clever part. One of the reasons I initially chose the island as the location for Jurassic Park was its impregnability – it is surrounded on all sides by a series of reefs, with but a few paths through. Now, Costa Rican radar equipment is, at best, antiquated, so I am of the belief that these reefs should provide adequate interference to allow you to pass through undetected in a dinghy, or some similar small vessel. Therefore, I have arranged for the charter aircraft to be of an amphibian variety, meaning that you can simply put down on the sea just outside the reefs, unload into a dinghy, and then travel the rest of the way by surface."

"And just how far do those reefs come out?" Inquired Eddy sceptically.

Hammond paused for a moment. "Seven miles."

There was a collective groan.

Irritated by the team's lack of respect for his painstakingly considered plan, Hammond continued loudly. "The pilot will fly low and fast for those three miles while also transmitting static on his radio. This will create the illusion that the plane is in trouble and perhaps buy you enough time to launch an inflatable dinghy. The pilot will then take off and fly back the way he came, having only been off-radar for a few moments – the Costa Ricans will have no way of knowing that its passengers have been disgorged into the middle of the ocean. Even if they do dispatch an aircraft and come looking, they will find it very hard to spot a small dinghy in the middle of the night."

"Why does everyfing always 'ave to be at bloody night…" Johnny grumbled at the last sentence.

"The man's right, Hammond." Eddy said loudly. The doc here wants his beauty sleep, and from where I'm sittin', looks like he needs it!"

There were several barely suppressed chuckles. Hammond snapped.

"May I remind you why we are all gathered here today? My grandchildren have been abducted and are being held to ransom. And in case you have forgotten, my only chance of seeing them alive again is located on this island! Now, does anyone else have any more stupid comments or can I continue?"

"Just one." It was Steve who spoke. "How do we get off the island? I doubt the natives will fall for this trick twice."

"Right. Yes. Of course." Amidst the guilty silence, Hammond seemed a little surprised at the quality of the query. "Good question."

The old man crossed to his desk a picked up his flip-top calendar.

"I did initially consider sending you with a radio transmitter, but the transmissions could be traced and your presence detected – when one considers the strict laws regarding trespassing on that island, that would be a most undesirable occurrence. Instead, I have made arrangements for you to be picked up by a friend of mine who works for the Costa Rican government. This fine gentleman is employed to make routine survey flights of the island by helicopter and is due one in the next few weeks, so have simply offered him a large quantity of money to make his trip a little earlier, and with an unscheduled stop-off." Hammond outlined his plan. Steven couldn't help being slightly impressed.

_This sounds like it actually might work! If we manage to survive the night, that is…_

Hammond took a sip from a glass of water on his desk and continued. "Now, today is the 9th, and by the time you arrive on the island it will be the 11th. I have arranged for the helicopter pilot to arrive at precisely midday on the 12th, allowing you twenty-four hours to locate and retrieve the samples. The handover is scheduled for eight in the morning the following day so it's going to be tight, but that's as long as I dare leave it.

_Damn tight._

"You will be dropped into the ocean here…" Hammond indicated a spot on the map behind him. "…And you should aim to reach this beach by daybreak." He pointed to another spot on the coastline. The screen changed to show a close up of the _Isla Nublar._

"Upon landing, you should drag the dinghy into the trees and make your way onto service road C7 – Steven, Mr Edwards, you know the way. When you arrive, continue north for slightly less than three miles, at which point you will reach the intersection with F5. Then, you will need leave the road and head towards the Gallimimus paddock."

Steve shuddered at the mention of the latter, knowing it would be the Tyrannosaur's favoured hunting ground.

_Item 176 on the 'things that could go wrong' list._

"Cross the paddock and proceed precisely one hundred and fifty-six yards into the trees. You then will see a rock face with a door cut into it." Hammond continued. "That is the entrance to the Project Charisma laboratory where the DNA is contained in the form of frozen embryos, much like the park specimens. The vials you are after will be in one of the freezers and will be similar to this." The picture on the screen changed again, this time to show a sleek, black cylinder with the words 'Warning! Keep at below –20 degrees' stencilled across it. Somehow, Steve was not surprised at these developments.

_So I was right… These samples aren't the same as the park dinosaurs. There's even a separate secure laboratory… Never had any idea that was there._

Steve had never even known of the building's existence, let alone its location.

_Probably why I never met this Smith gent._

"There will be a number of refrigeration rucksacks contained within the laboratory – Mr Smith knows where they are. Providing they are fully charged, they will last around fifteen hours which should allow plenty of time to get them to me. By the time you arrive on the island, " Hammond finished.

"Seems like you've thought of everything." Said Eddy, a trifle reluctantly.

Hammond, delighted someone had finally acknowledged his self-proclaimed brilliance, nodded in appreciation. "As a matter of fact, I have." He beamed.

"Well then, I think that will be all. My aeroplane will be fully fuelled in… Let's see…" He checked his watch. "Around forty-five minutes. Until then, please make yourselves at home. I'll be in my Study." He made to leave. Steve got up and stopped him.

"Listen, about these bastards that took Lex and Tim… What if they're lying? What if they don't bring them to the handover?" He asked gently.

Hammond shook his head. "They have to. They've got to." He murmured, brushing past Steve and out of the room.

"For their sake, I hope so." Eddy muttered darkly.

"Yeah. Me too." Steve agreed. "Okay, I'm going to have a wash – won't be much time for that once we get there by the sound of things."

"Sounds good." Eddy replied. Catch ya later."


	4. Meet the Murphys

Steve was in the bathroom for a good quarter of an hour, the time spent mainly staring into the mirror and splashing his face with water periodically while the situation sank in. There could be no slip-ups in this operation, that was for certain. One wrong decision and his entire team could be eaten alive by the inhabitants of Jurassic Park. If that were not burden enough, Lex and Tim's lives depended on the quick recovery of the samples. In short, Steve was once again in a position to play the hero.

_Heroism. I know where heroism gets you._

He thought back over the past two years. The boredom, the isolation, the solitude. That was not Steve. And as much as he would like to deny it, this mission was as close as he'd got to having a purpose in a long time. He was a hunter, a tracker, a survivalist – he was a Muldoon. And this was what Muldoons did. He was going to get those samples. He was going to save those kids. And if necessary, he was going to die trying.

_Better that than the rest of my life spent picking up empty crisp packets._

Steve left the bathroom and made his way across the corridor to the briefing room. Then, he stopped and listened. There were voices drifting down the corridor. Raised voices, at that. _Angry_ voices.

Steve, perhaps unsurprisingly, couldn't help himself. He turned and made his way back down the corridor towards the sound of shouting, realising as he went that he was heading back to Hammond's office. He reached the door and stood furtively outside.

"What do you mean, some kid?" A male voice Steve did not recognise bellowed from somewhere inside the room.

"It's like I said!" These dulcet tones definitely belonged to Mr Miller. "You said you were gonna get the old head warden to lead the team!"

"That is not simply 'some kid', Jim, he is a Muldoon. And on the contrary, I informed you that I would recruit the most highly qualified person available – i.e., not deceased." This came from Hammond, whose voice remained quiet and measured despite the venom in the exchange. Despite everything, Steve was a little flattered to hear the old man standing up for him.

"Exactly!" Yelled Miller. "That's Muldoon's SON, and not the ACTUAL Muldoon! The game warden! I told you this was crazy from the moment…" He was abruptly cut off by what sounded suspiciously like someone stamping their foot.

"John, this is our CHILDREN we're talking about!" Began the voice identified by Hammond as belonging to 'Jim'. "You're about to send this crackpot team off on some harebrained expedition just on the off chance they can get whatever it is the guys that have our kids are after? I TOLD you we should have phoned the police the moment they went missing!"

"Jim, think about what you're saying!" A female voice cut in. "You know my dad found those messages on his private computer! If we contact the authorities who knows what they'll do to Alexis and Timmy."

"Bullshit, Alison!" Jim shouted. "You still believe a word this man says after all that's happened? After they went to his goddamn island? Nearly eaten? Electrocuted? Pushed out of trees? And now THIS?! How the hell you got custody I'll never know…"

"Enough!" Thundered Hammond. "Mr Miller, you WILL go on this expedition, and Steven WILL lead it! Unless of course this is you handing in your resignation?"

Suddenly there was the sound of breaking glass from uncomfortably close by. Steve jumped back as the door swung open and a well-built man with dark hair came out, looking sideways sharply as Steve stood awkwardly in the hallway.

There was silence for a moment as the two regarded each other coldly. At last, Jim spoke.

"You'd better be as good as he says you are, boy." He turned on his heel and stormed off down the corridor.

A bubble of anger rose up inside Steve. "I bloody well did alright last time!" He shouted after him.

Jim stopped dead. "What did you say?"

"If it wasn't for me, your kids would still be on that island." Steve replied evenly. "Inside the stomach of a Tyrannosaurus Rex."

Jim span round and began to march back down the hall towards Steve, seething.

"You better watch your mouth."

"Or what?"

Fists went up and they were only saved from coming to blows by the emergence of Alison from Hammond's study.

"Jim, please!" She went to restrain her ex-husband. He froze as she touched him and looked her square in the eyes before speaking.

"Fine, then. You're gonna put our kids' lives in this boy's hands. In that fat old man's hands. In… The immigrant's hands. It's all on your head! On your head be it!" Jim pulled away and made off back down the corridor, muttering indecipherable threats as he went.

Steve breathed deeply, a little disappointed with himself. In days gone by he would never have risen to baiting like that, let alone with such a distasteful response. Mentally, he decided to put it down to tiredness.

_Had a long flight. Been a long day. Just a one off.  
_

"Steven?" Alison spoke quietly. Steve could see the family resemblance to both Tim and Lex – the deep brown eyes and blonde hair were not the least of it.

"Mrs Murphy?" Replied Steven.

"It's… Ms Hammond now…" She explained, a hint of sadness noticeable in her voice. "Steven, about the children…" She trailed off.

"Listen, Ms Hammond, I promise I will do everything in my power to find these samples and get Lex and Tim back. They're great kids… They don't deserve this."

Alison managed a small smile. "I'm sure you will, honey. Timothy told me all about what you did at my dad's park. Jim has no right to doubt you."

Nobody had ever called Steve 'honey' before – at least, not that he could remember. It actually felt… Quite nice.

"Ms Hammond… Alison… This is personal for me. When I first met your son, I said I'd tell him all about my Stegosaurus. I'm going to make sure I get to keep that promise." Steve looked up as Miller left the office and stood stiffly at Steve's shoulder. "Duty calls."

"Good luck Steven. Jim and I are counting on you." She leaned in and hugged the young warden, before turning and heading off after her ex-husband.

Miller began to make his way back to the briefing room, closely followed by Steve. The silence was so stony that the younger man felt compelled to speak.

"Look, Miller… If it's really bothering you, I don't mind you taking over command of the expedition. To be completely honest, I haven't the faintest idea of how this sort of job is done anyhow. What do you say?" Steve was back to his old diplomatic self.

"Mr Hammond's orders. We do as we are told." Was Miller's measured reply.

_Yep, he's still sore!  
_

"You sure?" Steve persisted.

"Mr Hammond's orders." Miller reiterated robotically.

"Okay, okay. Just let me know if you change your mind."

Somewhere in the depths of the house, a clock chimed the hour.

_Time to rock 'n' roll._


	5. The JP-Day Landings

The de Havilland DHC-3 Otter powered through the night sky, its Pratt &amp; Whitney Wasp radial engine emitting a comforting growl. In the passenger compartment, Steve gazed out at the endless ocean below them, his thoughts on the perilous task that lay ahead. Then he was jerked back into the real world by Johnny tapping him on the shoulder and pointing at Eddy, who was sitting opposite them and, inexplicably, fast asleep.

"'Ow does he _do_ that?" Johnny said wistfully.

"He's either gifted, or a lazy git." Replied Steve with a grin. As he spoke, the engine note changed, becoming a whine several octaves higher.

"Reckon we're nearly there." Steve observed, leaning over to look out of the window. Sure enough, they were beginning to lose height.

"Then I'd better warm up the jammer." Said Johnny, unbuckling his harness. Ill advisedly, he stood up quickly and banged his head on the cabin ceiling.

"Oww! Bloody stupid time of day…" Disgruntled mutterings drifted from the rear of the cabin as the medic set about working the powerful radio transmitter situated in the tail section. As per Hammond's plan, it was connected to a small cassette player designed to transmit static and intermittent communication from the aircraft.

"Wakey-wakey!" Another voice wafted down the cabin – this time it belonged to Rodriguez, who had squeezed his massive frame into the co-pilot's seat so he could talk to the Costa Rican pilot in his native tongue. Eddy obeyed the command with a start.

"He says we nearly there, señors!" The voice boomed again.

There was silence for a moment before the big man spoke again. "Okay, we now in radar range!"

"Jammer is a go." Johnny shouted over the ever-increasing whine of the engine as the transmitter began to spit out audible bursts of static. "Let's hope this works!"

Right on cue, the radio in the cockpit crackled into life, the heavily accented voice at the other end clearly struggling to wrap their tongue around the English words. "Unidentified aircraft, this is Costa Rica radar control. You are entering restricted airspace. Please leave area immediately.

The radio at the back of the cabin replied immediately, its transmissions intercut with bursts of static. "Come… Position… St… Hel… We are n… Low… Bravo Foxtrot… Eight."

There was a moment of silence, long enough for Rodriguez to report "One mile gone," before the radar control replied. "We repeat. You are entering restricted airspace. Leave area immediately."

"Nee… Two Zero Niner… Engine… Ty… Depart… Now." The jammer continued broadcasting.

"These two could go on all night." Steve remarked dryly.

"Two miles gone, señors." Rodriguez added.

"Unidentified aircraft, this is final warning. Leave area immediately." The Costa Ricans were obviously getting fed up.

"Bugger!" Johnny swore. "The jammer's packed up!"

"Get it working again, Williams!" Miller shouted for the first time from his position at the front of the compartment.

"There's nothing I can do… The batteries are dead! It's out of juice!" Johnny yelled back.

"Bollocks! How we doing Roddy?" Steve said, his voice taut.

"Only one mile left, señors. We can make it!" Rodriguez bellowed from the cockpit, partially deafening the pilot in the process.

"Unidentified aircraft, this is Costa Rica radar control. We have launched interceptor airplane. Resistance is… Bad."

The three in the rear of the plane almost fell out of their seats laughing.

"Better give ourselves up boys, we've been naughty!" Eddy said, giggling like a schoolgirl.

"I'm quaking in my boots!" Added Steve, similarly engaged.

"'Aven't been so scared since I went to the loo and didn't notice there weren't no paper until after I'd crapped!" The last comment unsurprisingly belonged to Johnny.

Rodriguez looked on gravely from the cockpit. "This is no joking matter, señors. They will be here shortly."

"Better get 'er down then!" Said Johnny, reappearing from his berth in the rear of the plane and removing his kit from one of the overhead lockers.

"Hang on tight, señors!" Replied Rodriguez as the aircraft commenced a sickening descent. Johnny, completely unprepared for the suddenness of the dive, immediately lost his footing and disappeared rearwards with a strangled scream of protest, closely followed by a muffled "oof" as the contents of the locker landed on his head.

At the last moment, the pilot hauled the plane's nose up and levelled out and what couldn't have been more than ten feet above wave level.

"Three miles!" Rodriguez bellowed triumphantly, before murmuring something to the pilot, who nodded and slowed the aircraft down. Moments later, the Otter's floats were gliding through the late-night brine. Johnny, mumbling something about the bloodiness of the pilot, plane and time of day, reappeared for a second time and began undoing the inflatable dinghy's fastenings.

"Alrighty, let's move out people!" Said Steve, reaching under his seat for his equipment. This was made up of a large combat pack containing rations, ammunition, survival gear, and one-man bivvy; his hunting belt, complete with knife; a US issue combat vest with webbing; his favoured M1911 pistol with TLR-2 taclight; and Bob Muldoon's hat. Setting the latter firmly on his head, he got to his feet and took a SPAS-12 pump-action shotgun from the locker above him, checking its waterproof covering as he did so.

Glancing around to check the others' progress, Steve saw that Rodriguez had vacated the cockpit and was busy inflating the dinghy by means of a small electric pump. Eddy stood behind him wearing identical equipment to Steve, save for the hat, and also carrying a SPAS-12. Incidentally the two ex-wardens were the only ones to have chosen the shotgun as their primary weapon, the others preferring the more militaristic M16A2 assault rifles. Other variations in equipment included Johnny's highly prized medical kit, Rodriguez's second M16 strapped to his back, and his crimson bandanna, in place of the others' combat helmets. Smith, although he carried the same equipment as the others, was completely unarmed by his own request and, since landing in Costa Rica the previous night, had apparently become joined at the hip to Miller.

"Ready!" Rodriguez finished with the dinghy. The rest of the team quickly moved towards the hatch and jumped into the small boat; first Eddy, then Miller and Smith, then Johnny and finally Steve and Rodriguez. No sooner had the hatch closed than the pilot was gunned the throttle and was off, the Otter swiftly disappearing into the darkness of the night.

"Boom." Remarked Johnny softly. "The fun begins."

"We're not out of the woods yet." Steve whispered back. "Help me get this cover sorted."

Hammond had, thankfully, had the foresight to provide a sea-camouflage net to drape over the boat in the event of a patrol aircraft passing overhead. This was fastened in place not a moment too soon as the clatter of rotors began to drift on the breeze. The Costa Ricans had obviously sent a helicopter to investigate the strange communications from the phantom aircraft, but the sound soon faded and the dinghy passed undetected.

"Too easy." Johnny commented.

"I just hope the welcoming committee on the island is this forgiving." Murmured Steve darkly.

There were two sets of paddles in the dinghy and the occupants took turns, propelling the small boat through the inky black water. Hammond had assured them that none of the infamous reefs protruded to a height where they might pose a problem for the shallow-bottomed dinghy, but the rowing was still a nervous experience.

They headed steadily in the direction of the _Isla Nublar_ and dawn broke as they sighted land, the ominous peaks of the island silhouetted against the rising sun.

"Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, is it a privilege for us here at InGen to present to you the future of entertainment… On your right, Jurassic Park!" Steve quoted absently from the helicopter tour guidebook. It seemed like an age since he had last read that particular pamphlet, and a lifetime ago since he helped write it.

A short while later, the inflatable keel of the dinghy scraped the beach and the team clambered onto dry land, pulling the boat up into the tree line. Smith came last, covering up the drag marks to hide their presence from any prying aerial eyes. By the time they had deflated and hidden the dinghy under a heap of branches, the sun fully risen and they were bathed in warm, tropical sunlight. Steve stood on the sand and took a deep, appreciative sniff of the _Isla Nublar_ air – _the island where every day is a holiday_, he ruefully remembered.

_It's good to be home._

Eddy joined him. "Not bad, eh Steve-o?"

"I'd forgotten how beautiful this place was. Must have been paradise before Hammond and his cronies got here." Steve observed.

Johnny cleared his throat nervously as a bird sounded a plaintive alarm call. "Shall we get moving, skipper?"

Steve took one last look out over the beach and made his way to where the rest of the party were waiting.

"Okay gents, let's lock and load. Anything moves, you shoot it first, ask if it's a vegetarian later."

This raised a few chuckles and prompted Rodriguez to cock his M16 gleefully.

"Lead the way, señor!"

Steve led the small party off the beach and down a narrow pathway into the jungle. He instinctively recognised it as the hunting track of a small creature, most probably no taller than waist height. Knowing that Eddy most probably thought the same, Steve elected not to share this with the others and only stopped when they reached the promised roadway – a little overgrown, but usable nonetheless.

"Bingo!" Said Steve, not a little pleased that his tracking skills were still up to scratch.

Miller spoke up. "Mr Hammond said the crossroads are three miles to the north of here. This is the road we need?"

Eddy nodded. "Yeah, this is the one. Just follow it that-a-way, an' were there."

"Then, sir, I suggest we get going." Miller addressed Steve, his tone still distinguishably cold. "I have no desire to stay here longer that is absolutely necessary."

Steve, still feeling a tad pleased with himself, decided to let it pass. "Agreed. Let's move out! Eyes open, mind."

As the team set off at a steady pace down the service road, Eddy fell into step alongside Steve. "Y'know what they say, right?"

Steve sighed, well aware that one of Eddy's pearls of pessimistic wisdom was about to see the light of day. "I suspect you're going to tell me."

"Damn right I am." Eddy snorted. "If your attack is going really well, it's an ambush. No plan ever survives first contact."

"Then I bloody well hope we don't have a first contact," Replied Steve.

Eddy considered for a moment. "Me too," he said finally.


	6. Nasty Blockage

The march down the service road went without hitch, and less than an hour later they had reached the intersection with track F5. There had been a complete lack of contact with anything living on the journey so far; something that Steve found both pleasing and concerning at the same time. The only hint that they were not alone on the island came from the distant alarm calls of unseen birds – at least, Steve hoped they were birds. Perhaps his worries had been without foundation, he contemplated. He had most likely been the last person to set foot on the _Isla Nublar_ over two years ago, so who knew what had occurred in the elapsed time.

_Maybe they just wiped each other out…_

The team had stopped for a break upon reaching the crossroads and were sitting on the partially eroded tarmac, taking large swigs from their canteens. The day was beginning to hot up considerably as the sun rose higher overhead.

"Okay then." Steve addressed his companions a few moments later. "Looks like this is where we head off-road."

Eddy clambered to his feet. "Dunno about you Steve, but I've never gone off the road here before." He turned and surveyed his surroundings. "But this used to be the Gally paddock, right enough."

Steve nodded thoughtfully. "I have, once. With the Rex bang on our arses."

The others began to shift their feet uncomfortably at the mention of the supersized predator.

"Fence should be a few hundred yards down…" Steve consulted his compass. "That way."

"I'm followin' you." Replied Eddy.

"Come on then, let's get this over with."

The team made their way off the road and into the jungle, weapons at the ready. A thin curtain of steam was rising from in amongst the creepers as the sun evaporated the early morning dew. Soon, the trees began to thin and suddenly they broke back out into the sun – there, standing tall and impregnable in front of them, was the paddock fence.

"Long time since I've seen of o' these babies." Eddy shouldered his shotgun and jogged down the small slope to the hulking power lines. "Don't suppose there's any chance it's active?"

"Only one way to find out." Steve picked up a stick and lobbed it at the wires. Nothing happened.

"Looks okay..." He remarked noncommittally.

Eddy sighed and moved closer to the fence and, as if approaching a wild animal, slowly placed both hands upon the cable.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAA!" He screamed, his entire body shaking uncontrollably. A stream of British profanity issued from somewhere up the hill as Johnny rushed to his aid, closely followed by the others. Steve, however, was unimpressed.

"Been done."

Eddy stopped vibrating and took his hands off the wire. He smiled wickedly in the direction of Johnny, who in the usual accident-prone fashion had lost his footing and rolled most of the way down the slope.

"Got you, anyway."

Steve shook his head sadly. "You yanks are all the same."

Johnny finally arrived. "...Complete an' utter wanker." He proclaimed loudly. Eddy nodded proudly.

"So are we gonna go under, or over?" The Texan inquired of Steve, who stood and pondered for a moment.

"We go straight through." Rodriguez interrupted, stepping forwards and drawing a comically large machete from his backpack. "Stand back, señors."

They stood back. The Costa Rican took a huge swing at the bottom-most wire and it parted easily with a metallic *twang*. He did the same for the next three wires, and soon there was a gap large enough to squeeze through.

"Told you e'd come in 'andy!" Johnny remarked to Steve when they were all safely through.

"Could have done with him a couple of years back." Steve agreed.

The team began to make their way cautiously across the vast plane that served as the Gallimimus paddock. Halfway across, Steve even recognised the log behind which they had sheltered all that time ago. But still, there was no sign of any of the Park's inmates.

_No tracks, either. Not so much as a snapped twig. Of course, not that I'm complaining.  
_

Still, something didn't seem right. On every expedition he'd ever been on they had encountered at least some signs of life, however small and innocuous. And what's more, the birds had stopped calling. The silence was eery… Deadly, even.

"I know my way from here." Smith spoke up suddenly. Steve couldn't remember when the scientist had last said anything, if he had spoken at all. "My laboratory is situated just behind those trees." His accent was inconclusive, possibly of American-Japanese descent.

"Excellent. Lead on, my friend!" Steve replied.

Smith hesitantly moved to the front of the party, closely followed by Miller. Johnny and Rodriguez glanced at each other and unslung their weapons simultaneously, treading carefully as they followed Smith to the edge of the plane.

The trees were not thick and progress was fast. Within a matter of minutes they had reached the clump of trees Smith had indicated, but there was still no sign of the laboratory.

"I don't get it." Said Eddy. "You sure it's this way?"

Smith ignored the Texan and plunged headfirst into the thicket, moving so swiftly that even Miller lost sight of him. Steve shared yet another bewildered glance with Eddy before following the scientist's lead into the trees, pushing aside branches and fern fronds with the butt of his shotgun. Suddenly, they burst out of the trees and found themselves in a small clearing, surrounded on three sides by a smooth rock face. Smith was standing stock still, staring at one of the walls.

"Here." The scientist muttered absently. "It was just here..."

He moved towards the rock and began poking around, apparently searching for something concealed. Eddy shook his head sadly and was about to make a snide remark when a loud thud shook the ground, echoing off the rock faces. Smith had vanished.

"Where the 'ell did he go?" Exclaimed Johnny.

"There, look…" Steve pointed. A large hole had opened up in the side of the previously unblemished cliff, partially hidden behind a large overhang.

"Well I'll be…" Murmured Eddy. "How come we never knew about this?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Replied Steve. "But it's beginning to look like there's a lot we weren't told..."

"You turkeys gonna stand there chattin' all day?" Johnny enquired, setting off in the direction of the cave mouth. Steve and Eddy hurried after him, closely followed by Rodriguez and, as usual, the completely impartial Miller.

The cave went back a long, long way. After several bends the thin rays of sunlight from the outside world faded completely, meriting the use of the torches strapped to their combat vests.

"Where the hell's he got to?" Eddy growled in Steve's ear. But before the younger man could reply, they rounded another bend and found Smith furiously scrabbling at a pile of large boulders. The scientist registered the presence of the others and turned, addressing no one in particular.

"There's been a rock fall." He explained, stating the obvious.

Steve pushed past the scientist and inspected the passageway. Sure enough, the way was blocked – part of the ceiling had caved in and one of the walls had partially collapsed. Steve shone his torch and looked more closely at the lower left corner of the path. There was a small gap there – not big enough for a man, but it would just about fit a medium-sized dog.

_A medium-sized dog. Hmm._

Steve stepped back and addressed Rodriguez – the big man was struggling with the low cave roof, his bald head scraping painfully against the rocks.

"Mr Rodriguez, do you have anything for a nasty blockage?" Asked Steve.

The big Costa Rican grinned. "I know just the thing, señor." He squeezed past the others and stood in front of the collapsed area, fiddling with his XXL military webbing. He detached a small, round object and then rolled it under the gap in the blockage.

"Boom boom time." He said happily, raising his right hand and extending five fingers. He counted down on these, carefully manoeuvring himself so that his large frame was braced against the passage walls in preparation for the blast as he did so. The others took refuge around the next bend, crouching down and covering their ears. It suddenly struck Steve that Rodriguez was trying to impress him.

_Probably thinks there's a bonus in it.  
_

The explosion, when it came, was a little disappointing – a muffled *_crump*_ was all the concussion grenade could muster. However, it did the job – the hole in the blockage was now big enough for those of human size to squeeze through. Rodriguez was wasting no time and had already begun cramming himself through when Steve and the others returned. Smith waited until he was through and then made as if to follow, but Steve pulled him back.

"Not you." The young warden said, exerting his authority for the first time.

_Medium-sized dogs._

"We'll handle this. You head back to the clearing and set up camp – we know what we're looking for."

Smith was about to protest, but Steve wasn't finished. "You've done your job. There could be all kinds of… Things down here, and the last thing we need is a unarmed civilian to protect." Then, Steve had an idea. "Miller, you stay with Smith. Keep him out of trouble."

If Smith was angry, Miller was positively fuming at being bossed around by this… Child. The bodyguard struggled to compose himself and splutter out a response, but Steve was having none of it – he was most definitely not going down there with anybody he couldn't trust.

"That's an order, Miller, and what's more, my orders come from Mr Hammond. They are Mr Hammond's orders. We do as we are told. Remember?" Steve was enjoying this rather too much.

There was a stunned silence as Miller struggled to comprehend the magnitude of this insult. Eventually though, he must have reached some sort of conclusion as he stood to attention stiffly.

"Yes sir." He said and saluted haughtily. "Mr Smith, step this way." The bodyguard turned on his heel and strode back down the corridor whence they had come.

Smith looked at Steve coldly. "Do not think you've heard the last of this." Then he turned and followed Miller, quickly disappearing around the corner. Steve stood and took a deep breath before following the others through the hole in he rock fall.

_It's showtime._


	7. Revelations

Rodriguez led the way down the corridor, which had apparently been hewn from the actual bedrock of the _Isla Nublar. _The passage was larger this side of the blockage and the big Costa Rican could stand up unhindered, although his head did still occasionally brush against the odd root hanging from the cavern roof.

After a seemingly indeterminate period of walking in the pitch black, Rodriguez stopped suddenly. "Door here, señors." He explained briefly.

"Is it locked?" Asked Johnny.

Rodriguez pushed it experimentally. The door slowly creaked open.

"No señor." He replied, somewhat inanely.

They stepped through the well worn doorway and found themselves in what was apparently a huge cave – by torchlight they could make out a number of desks and control consoles, as well as what appeared to be a large glass balcony jutting out from the far wall.

"This must be the lab." Decided Steve. "D'ya reckon the lights still work?"

Eddy ran his hand down the wall beside the door and immediately found what he was looking for – a large electronic switch, situated at shoulder height.

"Hold on to your butts!" The Texan quipped, quoting his old colleague, and threw the switch.

A deep rumble echoed around the cavern, quickly followed by the high-pitched whine of turbines spooling up. The note eventually settled and the lights began to flicker on dimly. Steve couldn't help but marvel at Hammond's level of engineering.

_Two years out of commission and the generators still work. Spared no expense._

Steve stepped gingerly across the floor, picking his way through the dust by the light of the gradually brightening strips above. "Alright gents, you know what we're after. Turn this place upside down if you have to."

Eddy made a beeline for the glass balcony while Johnny and Rodriguez began to rifle through a large bank of cabinets. Steve headed towards a small door cut into the cavern wall, drawing his M1911 and switching on its taclight.

Upon arrival at the entrance, Steve cast a cursory glance around and saw, to his horror, that there was a small hole in the wall near the base of the door. Once again, the hole was just about big enough for… a medium-sized dog.

_I have a bad feeling about this. But still, better say something cool when you kick down the door._

Raising his weapon, he took a deep breath and kicked down the door.

"Something cool."

The room was empty.

_Totally worth it._

Exhaling in relief, Steve lowered his handgun and scanned the room more closely – it was much smaller than the other cave, with one wall completely taken up by a large bank of freezers.

_Bingo._

Steve cautiously lifted the lid of the first one, an icy blast hitting him square in the face. Unfortunately, it contained nothing but empty syringes and chunks of slushy coolant.

_Second time lucky._

He opened the second lid – this freezer was also cold, but empty.

_Third's a charm._

That one was possibly the coldest, but empty too.

_One left – I bloody hope we haven't come all this way for nothing!_

The fourth was anything but empty. It was scattered with shards of black plastic, oozing with some form of foul smelling goo. A horrible suspicion crossed Steve's mind and he reached inside, fishing out one of the larger pieces of material. A quick glance at it confirmed his fears – the plastic bore the words "below –20 degrees" stencilled in white.

_No, no, no, NO!_

Freezer number four had obviously once contained the samples they were after. But now, none of the cylinders were intact. Something had happened. Hammond's DNA was no more.

Steve stood stock still, struggling to come to terms with the repercussions this discovery would have.

_No samples, no kids! Maybe we can scoop up some of that goo instead?!_

Steve turned on his heel and went to join the others, desperately trying to think of an alternative solution. However, before he could leave the room, a chilling fact suddenly dawned on him – there had been no gust of cold air as he opened the last freezer. The cooling system must have failed on that unit. The contents were at room temperature.

As Steve went back to double check, something else caught his eye – there was a hole in the bottom of the freezer. A hole just big enough to allow the passage of a medium-sized dog. And in the dust beside this hole, there were footprints. Three-toed footprints. Raptor footprints.

_They hatched. Cocking Nora!_

Steve sprinted for the door. "We have to get out of here, right now!" He yelled, but the warning had come just seconds too late. A cry of alarm went up from the other side of the lab, swiftly followed by two gunshots. In the half-light of the larger chamber, Steve saw Johnny lying on the floor and Rodriguez brandishing his M-16 in the direction of a small pile of boxes.

Steve charged across the lab and joined the others, pistol in hand. "You okay Johnny?" He asked.

"I think so…" Johnny got to his feet gingerly, nursing his left wrist. "There's something down 'ere, Steve. And its got teeth."

"Behind those crates, señor. A small lizard. I saw him run." Said Rodriguez, his gaze never wavering from the pile of boxes.

Eddy chose this moment to burst onto the scene, waving his shotgun wildly. "What was it? Where?" He panted.

"I didn't see exactly." Replied Johnny. "We opened up one of these 'ere lockers and it just jumped us – must have been 'iding there the whole bloody time. Little blighter sank its nippers into my 'and, then went and 'id behind those boxes – Roddy got a couple of shots off but I reckon 'e missed."

"I do not very often." Rodriguez interjected, a touch put out.

Steve ignored him. "I reckon it's a baby Raptor," He said. "I found some freezer units in the storeroom over there. Looks like we're too late – the cooling system failed and the samples have hatched out."

Eddy stared at the young warden. "You're crazy! Surely that's not possible?"

"That's what they said about them breeding, and then look what happened." Steve replied.

"So… That's it then? No samples? Mission failed? We're just goin' to go home?" Eddy asked in disbelief.

Steve nodded sadly. "I don't know what else we can do. The cylinders were all destroyed – smashed to pieces and covered in goo."

There was silence as this information sunk in. The operation was in tatters; without the samples there was no hope for Hammond's grandchildren.

Eddy was the first to speak, a frown crossing his features. "Boys, I think we've been led up the garden path."

Steve looked at the Texan curiously. "How d'ya mean?"

"You say the casings were shattered? Shattered like an eggshell?"

Steve nodded again.

"Then I'll wager that goo is amniotic fluid. Embryos don't just hatch all by themselves, they need some kind o' host to develop in. This was never about retrievin' DNA samples – this was about us gettin' dinosaur eggs!" Eddy finished.

Steve suddenly saw straight through Hammond's ruse. Realising he'd never be able to persuade them to recover a clutch of highly dangerous Raptor eggs, no matter what the stakes, he had pretended the kidnappers were merely after the DNA. While they believed they would simply be handing over scientific research that could be sold to the highest bidder, they would actually be delivering a deadly weapon to whoever was prepared to pay the most. A weapon that could _breed_.

"Synthetic eggs…" Steve murmured. "Of course. They were growing Raptors in this lab… And now we're slap bang in the middle of their nest."

"So what're we gonna do?" Asked Johnny. "The DNA's all gone, an' now we're being 'unted down by baby dinosaurs."

Right on cue, an inhuman scream echoed around the chamber. Rodriguez, who had been deeply engrossed in watching the crates and played no part in the discussion, wheeled round and squeezed off a few shots in the general direction of the noise.

"How about… Run?" Steve suggested.

"Excellent notion." Johnny began to sidle towards the exit, closely followed by the others. Rodriguez brought up the rear, weapon raised as he searched for another fleeting glimpse of the unseen enemy.

"There, behind that workbench!" Eddy spotted one. Then Johnny did too. "Another, little bugger just jumped off the balcony." Rodriguez, feeling a little left out, fired off a couple more rounds into the cave ceiling.

"Hold fire." Steve whispered as they backed towards the door. Then, the attack came all at once. Another high-pitched screech sounded and the Raptors broke cover, dashing towards the four humans as one seething, wheeling mass. Rodriguez abandoned all pretence of warning shots and opened fire, his M-16 spitting tongues of flame as he attempted to mow down the aggressors. The other three followed suit and blazed away into the dimly lit room, the sound of gunfire deafening in the enclosed space. The attack was over as quickly as it had begun, and a deathly silence fell once again.

"Did… Did we get 'em?" Asked Steve, a little shakily. Rodriguez stepped forward, sniffed, crouched down and carefully checked the floor. When he got to his feet and turned to face the others, he face wore a look of bewilderment. "No dead, señor." He said. "No blood, nada. I missed again." The last sentence was spoken almost disbelievingly.

Eddy was equally bemused. "Could've sworn I smoked at least two of 'em."

That was when the second attack came. This time the creatures struck silently, the only noise coming from the scuffling of claws upon the tiled laboratory floor. Three of the small Raptors singled out Rodriguez and flew at the big man with their jaws wide open, but they had apparently underestimated the big Costa Rican – with almost superhuman reactions, Rodriguez span and swung the butt of his rifle in a vicious arc, snapping one of the Raptor's necks and laying the other clean out for the count. The third landed on its backside and, with a terrified squeal, darted for cover.

Steve and Eddy were squeezing shots into the dinosaur ranks to no apparent avail and, seeing Rodriguez holding his own against the Raptor pack, made a break for the door. Moments later, Johnny joined them in the corridor, frantically struggling to reload his jammed M-16.

Rodriguez stooped to pick up the dead Raptor and sprinted for the exit, firing his M-16 from the hip as he ran. The Costa Rican somehow managed to overtake the raptors and reach the door first, which Steve slammed shut after him before leaning back against it and breathing hard. He noticed for the first time that there were lights set in the walls of the passage, apparently also powered by the laboratory generators.

_We made it._

Eddy's shotgun roared, the sound momentarily disorientating in the confined space. Steve looked at the Texan questioningly, who wordlessly pointed at the base of the door. The others followed his finger and saw the hole that had, until moments ago, accommodated a murderous dinosaur.

"Run?" Enquired Johnny, panting.

"Run." Agreed Steve, equally out of breath.

However long it had taken to reach the laboratory, it took a tenth of the time to get back to the blockage. They pelted hell-for-leather down the passage and hurled themselves through the gap. Almost before the last man had dived through, Rodriguez began blocking up the hole, using the butt of his M-16 as a shovel while the others scrabbled at the smaller rocks with their hands.

Spurred on by the cries from the other side of the blockage increasing in volume, the team soon had the hole filled in. The small Raptors then seemed to attempt to dig a way through, but they were soon discouraged by a flurry of warning shots from Rodriguez's M-16 ("Cover your ears, señors").

At last, the screeching faded as the dinosaurs returned to their nest. The humans sank down, exhausted by their narrow escape.

"That was close." Ventured Steve.

"Too bloody close." Johnny agreed.

"Heh, we're safe with 'ol one-man-army here." Eddy motioned to Rodriguez, who smiled modestly before slinging the dead dinosaur to the floor.

"So what do you make of that, señors?" He asked.

Steve moved in to take closer look. The creature certainly resembled a juvenile raptor, with its bony head and tell-tale thumb claw. However, its markings differed from those Steve had seen before, and the scaly plates along its back shimmered strangely in the dim passage lighting. Steve estimated the creature to be about the size of a Labrador.

_A medium-sized dog, of course._

Steve looked up at Eddy, who was also studying the dinosaur intently. "You're the expert."

Eddy nodded slowly, struggling to tear his gaze away from the creature's scaly hide. "It's a Raptor alright, a baby one at that. I'd say perhaps… A one-month old. But to tell y'all the truth, I've never seen one quite like this… It's anatomically very close to the 'ol park ones, but there's something… I dunno. It's different."

Rodriguez grunted his approval and drew his pistol. "You know the drill, señors."

His companions scarcely had time to cover their ears before he opened fire on the raptor carcass, the shots finding their mark with unerring accuracy. The Costa Rican then holstered his pistol, leaned over and picked up the corpse, dangling it aloft in a meaty fist. He indicated the animal's back scales, which were, incredibly, completely unscathed.

"See?" He said in distaste, throwing the corpse down again. "Bullets don't work."

This revelation, somewhat understandably, brought a disbelieving silence from the others. But, try as they might, nobody could come up with any other explanation for what they had just witnessed.

_A bulletproof dinosaur. Why the hell not._

"You know, we could just go out and ask Smith." Steve suddenly realised.

"Sounds like a plan." Johnny agreed.

As they got up to leave, Rodriguez went to pick up the dinosaur but Steve stopped him. "That… Thing… Stays here." Rodriguez looked slightly disappointed at this but didn't bother to argue, instead picking up his M-16 and cradling it lovingly.

The foursome headed towards the daylight and quickly reached the entrance, momentarily blinded by the bright midday sunshine. They had apparently been inside for several hours.

As their eyes adjusted, Steve cast around for the scientist. He was nowhere to be seen.

"Great. Now where's he got to?" Steve growled. "Everyone spread out, see if you can find them."

The others obeyed and made their way out of the clearing, carefully combing the surrounding forest in search of the missing members of the expedition. After a few minutes of fruitless hunting, Rodriguez's voice boomed out through the trees.

"Señors! Over here!"

It took Steve mere moments to reach the big Costa Rican, who was crouching down beside a clump of swamp grass – red swamp grass.

A horrible chill ran down Steve's spine as he approached the scene. The grass was indeed red with blood – the blood of a stricken scientist. Kneeling down next to Rodriguez, the young warden saw that Smith didn't have long left. He was bleeding from multiple places, his face ashen, skin clammy and – this was the worst part – very little remained of his left leg.

Seconds later, Johnny and Eddy burst through the trees and pulled up short. Johnny reached for his medical kit instinctively, but his hand dropped away when he saw the extent of the scientist's injuries. He had needed hospital a good thirty minutes ago and was well past the doctor stage now – a priest would have been more appropriate, but somehow Johnny doubted the scientist would have wanted last rites.

Steve looked at Johnny for confirmation of Smith's condition and the medic shook his head, the message clear – there was no hope.

Somehow, Smith sensed this and managed to open his eyes, his pupils gazing unseeingly skywards. Steve knew he had to take his chance – the dying man could still help the others survive.

"Hey…" To his anguish, Steve realised he didn't even know the man's first name. "Look, I know you must be in a lot of pain, but we need to set some things straight." Steve began gently, before Eddy motioned at him to hurry up – time was of the essence. "Those dinosaurs you were breeding in the lab… Just how special were they?"

The scientist opened his mouth and coughed once, twice, thrice – then spoke, his voice bubbling. "Ahhh yes… My little… Babies… Special… So very, very special…" He wheezed, breaking off into what may well have been a giggle. "My greatest achievement… Our finest hour… Project…" He trailed off and his eyes began to close for what Steve suspected would be the final time. He suddenly remembered the other member of their party. "And Miller? Where's Miller?"

"Miller… He drew them away… They chased him and left me alone… To die… I'm going to die… Die…" His eyes closed and, as realisation suddenly dawned, he began to cry. "Don't let me die."

"I'm sorry." Was all Steve could think of to say. "I'm so sorry." On impulse he reached for the scientist's hand and grasped it tightly, as if he could help the suffering man cling on desperately to life. As Steve felt the final breath leave Smith's body, a lump rose in his throat. He let go of the scientist's hand and the limb fell lifelessly to the floor, landing with a slight *splash* in a pool of deep red blood.

Steve got up and turned away from the others, striding away from the dead scientist – he had to get away, anywhere but there. 'There' was a bad place. He heard murmured conversation from the others and felt their eyes on him as he left the scene and made his way back to the clearing. Chest heaving, he sat down and leant against the sun warmed rock face. He couldn't help but think about the man he hardly knew – the man who had died under his command, entirely because of a decision he had made. If he had let Smith come with them into the lab, he would still be alive. There were no two ways about it.

_Miller was right… I'm not a leader. He's dead because of me._

Hearing the others approaching, Steve hastily rubbed his eyes and took a long drink from his canteen. Johnny came over and sat down beside the young warden.

"You ok mate?" He asked, unknowingly mimicking Steve's words from a few days ago – it seemed like a lifetime.

"Yeah, fine." Steve lied. "It's just… How many people have to die in this place? There's been so much death here, so much pain… I wish we… No, I wish I never came here, fat lot of good I've done – one man dead, another missing, all for nothing… And all because of me. If I hadn't sent them out of that cave, Smith would still be alive right now. It's my fault, goddammit! How many more people are gonna die because of me?!"

Johnny took was silent for a moment before he spoke again. "D'ya know why Hammond chose me for this mission, Steve?"

Steve answered wearily. "Yeah, 'cause you're the best of the best and all that."

Johnny shook his head. "Nope, not true. Remember when I said I was injured in a training exercise?"

Steve nodded.

"Not true either. I served in the Gulf War as a combat medic with the Royal Marines. My section were out on patrol one night when a gang of 'ostiles jumped us – took out the entire squad, all save for me and another young lad – Jimbo, we called 'im. Anyway, we popped smoke and made a break for it. Looked like we were getting away pretty good, but then we come to this big open area. Long story short, I told 'im to go first while I covered. Poor bugger stood on a land mine. I 'ad a look, but there was nothing left – just a bit of 'elmet and his gun. What makes it worse is, I got back to base without a god damn scratch on me. Even got an 'onourable discharge on bloody psychological grounds… I still have the nightmares. But listen, the point is, if I 'adn't sent 'im across that field first, 'e would still be alive today. It should 'ave been me that stepped on that land mine… Should 'ave been me…" Johnny trailed off.

Steve didn't know what to say, but luckily Johnny continued after a pause. "Point is, we're all 'ere for a reason. For me, guess it's 'cos I've got somefink to prove. To my family, to Jimbo's family, to myself, I don't really know - I just owe 'im this one. Just remember, we all make mistakes, and when you really fink about it, how was you to know that scientist type would get attacked by a gang of fuckin' dinos when we ain't seen none all day – no more than I knew that field was chock full with land mines. Remember… You're not alone."

"We've got your back, Steve-o." Eddy slapped the young warden on the back. "If we didn't trust you, do you really think you'd have made it all this way?"

Rodriguez concurred. "Is not your fault, señor. Shit happens."

This last sentence raised a chuckle.

"So, what's the plan now boss?" Eddy inquired.

"Bury Smith, I guess." Replied Steve, reluctantly. Rodriguez took a sharp intake of breath and shook his head vigorously. "Bad idea señor. Very bad."

"Roddy's right, Steve." Johnny chimed in. "We ain't got the time to stay in one place and do our best sitting duck impression. The dinos will see to 'im, rest assured."

"I guess you're right." Steve conceded. "Suppose we'd better try and find Miller then." He looked around and his eyes set upon a tree a good deal taller than the rest. "I'll shin up that tree and see if I can spot him in the paddock."

This seemed like a sensible plan, so the others nodded in agreement as Steve slipped off his pack and headed for the tree. There were plenty of branches, making climbing easy, and Steve made good progress up the tree.

_Miller led the dinos away from Smith… Could I have been wrong about him? He's a bit on the cold side, granted, but he's a bloody brave man._

These thoughts whirling around his head, the young warden quickly reached the summit of the huge tree and surveyed the surrounding landscape in search of anything that may provide a clue to Miller's whereabouts.

Unfortunately, the search proved fruitless, and Steve already considering his next move when something caught his eye – a thin plume of blue wood smoke had begun to rise from what the young warden had so far assumed to be a small clearing in the distance.

Steve rummaged in his thigh pocket for a pair of binoculars and inspected the thicket more closely - he could scarcely believe what he saw. The clearing was in fact a thick layer of camouflage netting enshrouding a circle of five large, round tents. The smoke originated from a small campfire in the centre, which was being vigorously attended by a large man who apparently wished to extinguish it. Sweeping the area, Steve saw that the tents were actually pitched within an overgrown Dilophosaurus holding pen, and that the surrounding electric fence had been surreptitiously cleared of vegetation.

_Bloody hell… Someone's set up a full blown dino-proof campsite!_

After observing for a few moments more, Steve was about to vacate his lookout and inform the others of his find when he detected movement within the circle of tents. A small figure darted out from one of the canvas constructions and began sprinting towards the fence. Judging by the long hair, Steve guessed it was a girl. A moment later, two more men came barrelling out from inside another tent and gave chase. The pursuit didn't last long, ending abruptly when the first figure reached the perimeter fence discovered she had nowhere to go.

_Looks like she's trying to escape…_

From this point, it took the men but a few seconds to apprehend the girl by means of rugby-tackling her to the ground. She was then hauled to her feet and unceremoniously dragged back inside the nearest tent. However, there was still time for an event that would change the entire outlook of the mission - just before she vanished from sight, the girl screamed.

Despite the distance, Steve nearly fell out of his tree when the faint cry reached his ears. He knew that sound only too well, having grown very familiar with it over two years ago. That scream belonged to Alexis Murphy.


	8. Merry Men

"Come off it Steve-o, there's nobody here but us." Eddy was disbelieving, a sentiment echoed by the other members of the party.

"It's true, I swear!" Replied Steve, his voice running high with emotion. "Someone's set up camp in one of the old Dilo holding pens, 'bout five miles to the north-east. Looks like they've even charged up one of the old fences, but that's not the least of it…"

Eddy held up his hands to halt Steve's explanation – the young man had been repeating this apparently preposterous story since the moment he vacated the tree.

"Hold your horses and let me get this straight." The Texan began. "You saw some smoke comin' from one of the 'ol pens. Could it have been Miller tryin' to get our attention?"

"No, I've already told you, there's a bloody great campsite there!" Steve indignantly dismissed Eddy's speculation. "And what's more…"

Eddy gestured for a silence again. "Bush fire, perhaps?"

Steve shook his head. "No way! You see, here's the thing…"

"I guess it could be poachers?" Johnny cut him off. "After all, you'd 'ave to be crazy to camp out on this godforsaken island."

"Will you just listen!" Steve raised his voice. "I know it sounds crazy, but I think that camp belongs to the kidnappers."

There was silence for a moment, before Eddy burst out laughing. "Are ya sure you haven't been out in the sun too long, Steve-o?"

"Just hear me out." Steve continued. "I counted three men in that pen. When none of them were looking, a girl ran out from one of the tents – looked to me like she was trying to make a break for it. One of the blokes caught her almost immediately, and when they tried to take her back inside, she screamed. Come on, you must have heard that scream?"

The uncomfortable silence confirmed that they had indeed.

"Could have just been one of the dinos?" Johnny mumbled unconvincingly.

Steve kept going. "Now, this is where you'll have to trust me. I was stuck on this island with those kids two years ago, back when things went south for Jurassic Park. I know that scream – hell, I heard it enough – and it belongs to Lex Murphy. I'm positive!"

While Steve was talking, Rodriguez had been staring at the young warden intently, carefully gauging his expression. Eventually, the big Costa Rican spoke.

"He knows what he has seen, señors. We should… In-vesti-gate." Rodriguez struggled to pronounce the last word properly, but this didn't lessen the impact – the big man rarely offered his opinion.

"Don't tell me ya believe this shit too Roddy? Our Steve has had a tough day, he's probably just been seein' things." Eddy was certain.

"I guess it can't 'urt just to 'ave another look, right?" Johnny interjected. "It ain't like we 'ave anyfink to lose, we'll be 'eadin 'ome empty 'anded tomorrow anyways. Steve, is there anywhere we can get a good look out over this campsite of yours? I ain't climbing no trees."

Steve thought for a moment, then nodded. "The warden's lodge has an observation tower. You can see most of the park from up there."

Eddy shook his head wearily. "You're all crazy. I'm stuck on this island with a bunch o' dinosaurs and three ravin' lunatics."

"And just 'ow far away is this lodge?" Johnny enquired, studiously ignoring the Texan's protests.

"A couple of hours march. But we'll have to head that way anyway to get to the helipads." Replied Steve.

"Then sounds like we'd better get moving. Raptor boy, you coming or not?"

"Goddamn waste of time." Eddy grumbled irritably. "But hell, it's not like we've got anythin' better to do."

Johnny took this as an affirmative and gave Steve the nod. "Then we're all in agreement. Lead on, young'un!"

Steve led on.

The team walked in silence, each man left to his own thoughts as they made their way through the steaming jungle. A short while later they finally encountered their first dinosaur outside of the lab, an Ankylosaur harmlessly plodding about its heavily armoured business.

The journey took slightly longer than the promised two hours, mainly due to the continued attacks by the island's resident mosquitoes and two paddock fences that had to be negotiated. However, both were cut through without hitch, and at last the foursome reached Ranger Plaza – a large square which, had the park become operational, would have acted as the central headquarters for all of the park's service staff.

Upon arrival at the lodge, Steve was delighted to find that the storm shutters had remained in place, rendering the building impregnable.

"Our house, in the middle of our street." Steve observed.

"Nice digs." Johnny commented.

"Just wait until you see the Jacuzzi…" The warden spoke wryly as he searched for the emergency release lever by the garage door – the same door he had carefully locked behind him as he drove a jeep out into the storm to search for his father two years ago.

_Before shit hit the fan._

"Aha!" Steve found what he was looking for and pulled it, a muffled clunk sounding as the bolts securing the door drew back. "Give me a hand, Eddy."

Between them the two wardens began to push the protesting steel sheet upwards. Two years worth of rust suddenly gave way, and it began to creak open. Steve ushered his companions inside and closed the door quickly, motioning for the others to turn on their torches. When the warden had finished securing the entrance, Johnny tapped him on the shoulder.

"'Ow do we know this place ain't full of baby dinos like the lab was?"

Steve exchanged a grin with Eddy.

"My dad had the lodge built to his own specifications. It's cut several hundred meters into the mountainside, and god knows how deep the foundations run. It was designed to double as an emergency bunker in the event of a storm or… Well, what did happen, happening."

"Bob had his doubts about this park from the start." Eddy explained. "He insisted Hammond build refuge bunkers all around the site, but this was meant to be the backup control centre in case the Visitor Centre was lost. Turns out, he wasn't far wrong."

Johnny seemed satisfied. "Top man."

"Wait here while I get the backup power online." Steve left the garage area, took a sharp right and ran up a flight of stairs to the generator room. Opening the door, he brushed aside a few dozen cobwebs and threw a large switch on the wall. Nothing happened.

_Bugger, automatic cutoff must have failed when I left._

He crossed to the control console, swept a thick layer of dust away and glanced at the gauges.

_Yep, tanks are bone dry._

Then Steve had a brainwave.

_I wonder if we left the solar cells plugged in…_

Sure enough, there was a thick yellow power cable snaking into the back of the central junction box.

_If the batteries haven't failed, we should have two years worth of power in the bank._

The warden swiftly flipped open the cabinet and reconnected a section of the wiring. The solar panels were never meant to power the entire lodge and were mainly intended to recharge the power tools, but Steve hoped there would be enough stored in the batteries to keep the lights on for a few hours at least. As it turned out, he was correct – after a moment's delay, the overhead strips began to bathe the room in deep orange light.

_Result!_

Steve headed downstairs to join the others and found them getting comfortable in the off-duty room. Johnny had discovered the kitchenette and was busy making tea, while Eddy was slumped down in his old armchair, exhausted. Only Rodriguez seemed interested in the observation tower, so Steve led him back up the flights of steps to the roof platform. The tower rose high above them on rusting metal stilts, but this did not deter the Costa Rican who went up it like a monkey – or perhaps, more fittingly, a patriarchal gorilla.

Steve, secure in the knowledge that the structure could support the mercenary's sizeable bulk, followed him gingerly. The climb was not pleasant but, when he reached the top, the view was worth it – the island was even more beautiful than Steve remembered in the dappled afternoon sunshine.

Keen to get down to business, Rodriguez looked at the warden questioningly.

"Which way, señor?"

Steve moved closer to the railing. "There, about halfway between us and that hill… You see?" He replied.

There was a brief pause as the Costa Rican produced a suitably large pair of binoculars and scanned the area methodically. Then, he lowered them again and turned back to Steve, a huge smile plastered across his features.

"I told them, señor. I told them you were not seeing things. And I am right." He explained proudly.

"Thank you Roddy. Means a lot." Replied Steve.

"Don't mention it, señor. Now come, we must tell the others. They will want to see for themselves."

Steve and Rodriguez quickly made their way back to the off-duty room. They found Eddy in his usual situation (asleep) and Johnny who, having finished with the tea, was making bread from some ingredients he found in a cupboard.

"Love baking, me." He explained cheerfully.

Steve allowed his colleague to finish his nap before ordering the others to follow him to the roof, backed up by Rodriguez. Reluctantly, Eddy ascended the observation tower, closely followed by Johnny and Steve while the big Costa Rican kept an eye on the bread.

"Right, so what am I supposed to be lookin' at?" Asked Eddy bad-temperedly.

Steve handed him his own pair of binoculars as Johnny took out his own.

"There, between us and that small hill. Looks like a clearing at first." Steve explained.

"That's because it _is_ a damn clearing." Eddy grumbled, raising the binoculars and making a half-hearted attempt at a search.

"There, see, absolutely noth… Jesus titty-fuckin' Christ!" Apparently, Eddy had spotted the campsite.

"What? Where, where?" Johnny looked around frantically, attempting to follow Eddy's gaze.

"Bless my bollocks." He breathed at last.

"I hate to say I told you so… But I told you so." Said Steve with an ever-so-slightly smug smile.

"I'll give you that." Johnny returned. "Sorry I ever doubted you matey."

Eddy let out a long, defeated sigh. "Why do I get the feelin' we're never gonna hear the last of this."

The trio headed downstairs to where Rodriguez was waiting, still grinning widely. Eddy cut him off before he could comment.

"Say a word, and I'll put Raptor shit in your paella."

Rodriguez chuckled before replying with mock indignation. "I never even open my mouth, señor."

The team pulled up an armchair each and began to discuss their next move.

"Alright, so we've established that this campsite does, in fact, exist." Johnny began. Eddy glanced at Rodriguez and spoke out the corner of his mouth.

"Raptor. Shit. Paella."

"So any ideas as to what we do now?" Johnny continued.

"Look, are we honestly gonna believe that Steve saw one of Hammond's grandkids at that campsite?" Eddy began, but Rodriguez interjected quickly.

"He was right about campsite, so I am in-clin-ed to believe him about girl." Stated the big man.

Johnny nodded in agreement. "Fair point."

"But I still don't get it." Eddy persisted. "Why would Hammond's grandkids have been taken here, of all places? There's no way that can be the girl ya saw."

Steve drew a deep breath and verbally took the plunge.

"I've been coming to that." He said. "I've got a theory – there are a plenty of blanks that still need filling in, but I reckon it could explain a lot."

"God help us, he's got a theory." Eddy muttered, but nobody took any notice.

"Just for a moment, let's imagine we're looking to get our hands on some Raptor eggs. Where's the first place we'd come looking?" Steve began.

"Here, I guess." Replied Johnny.

"Exactly. And what are these kidnappers after? Raptor eggs. You with me?"

The others nodded cautiously.

"So that explains why the kidnappers – the dog gang, or whatever they call themselves – would have a campsite on the island. But, like us, when they got here, they discovered all of the eggs had hatched out. So, naturally, Hammond would be their next port of call as he used to own the place."

"Make good sense." Rodriguez said encouragingly.

"So this gang give Hammond more credit than he's due, assume he managed to save some of the eggs, and then make an offer to buy them. Of course, Hammond has to refuse because he doesn't actually have any. But they think this is a bluff to try and raise the price, so they kidnap his grandchildren as an incentive."

"But why send the kids here?" Asked Johnny.

"I don't know for certain." Steve replied. "But doesn't it strike anyone else as strange that the handover point is in Costa Rica?"

The quiet was such that you could have heard a pin drop. Eddy broke it by cursing soundly. "Not until now, no."

Steve allowed himself a slight smile, knowing the battle was almost won. "Think about it. They already had a fortified campsite on the island. If Hammond did chance going to the authorities, where's the last place they'd look? I bet you any money it'd be dinosaur island, a place that no longer officially exists."

The others could see the logic in this.

"And if we got in, they could 'ave done too." Johnny said.

"They did get in – and judging by the amount of gear they have, they got in a number of times." Steve agreed.

"You know how crazy you guys sound?" Eddy cut in. "So crazy, that ya might just be on to somethin'. Wouldn't be the first time..." He said bitterly.

Steve could see this was intended as a compliment, however begrudging, and said nothing.

"So let's assume you're on the money with that guess, and that girl you saw actually is one of Hammond's grandkids." Eddy continued slowly. "What do you suggest we do about it?"

"We could wait for the chopper to come tomorrow then send for reinforcements?" Johnny suggested. Steve shook his head hurriedly.

"No, there's not enough time." He replied. "It'll take ages for the locals to get sorted, and by then the doggy boys could be long gone. And even that's assuming the authorities believe us in the first place…" He looked accusingly at Eddy, who avoided his gaze guiltily.

"Also, don't forget the handover with the kidnappers is in two days time – and we now have nothing to bargain with. We can't take that chance. We have to act now."

The Texan sighed deeply. "So what're ya saying, Rambo? We dive in and rescue 'em with all guns blazin'?"

"No, that'd be suicide." Steve paused before continuing.

"Look, I'll be frank with you. Last week, I saw a lad get beaten up in an alley. Nothing out of the ordinary in my part of town. But for some reason, I didn't go to help him, and I'm not really sure why. I just froze and stood there like bloody helpless idiot. And you know what? That brought something home to me. I've spent the last two years of my life watching from the sidelines, never doing, never getting involved the way I used to. But no more. My Dad died a hero, fighting to save others, and honestly, I'd rather do that than keep living the way I have been. And here's the catch; I know that, deep down, you all feel the same way. I've been thinking, you see – about what Johnny told me earlier. I think I know why Hammond picked us. We're people with nobody to miss us, but more importantly, people with something to prove. He knew we'd accept this mission, because we would give ourselves no choice. He knew we all desperately needed a chance to show ourselves what we're really made of – he played us, to an extent. But I don't care. I know what I really want. I want to do something that justifies my existence. And, like it or not, with you or by myself, that's what I'm going to do."

Steve ran out of breath and stopped suddenly. This time, the silence in the room was deafening and seemed to last for hours.

"I let a man get killed by a Raptor." Eddy finally spoke, his voice husky.

"It was back when the park first started. We were movin' the dominant female into a new high-security pen. I had been tasked with overseein' the whole kaboodle from way up high. They gave me a rifle and told me to shoot first, ask questions later at the first sign of trouble. Anyway, everythin' looked to be goin' well, at least, until the gatekeeper slipped and fell beside the crate. The Raptor somehow managed to push the transport cage back n' pulled him in by the legs. Your dad was yellin' and yellin' at me to shoot her, but I held my fire too long – he was dead by the time I got my shot away. Like ya said, I just froze; there ain't a single night I don't hear his screams over and over in my head…" Eddy paused to compose himself before continuing. "And you were right about having no one to miss me. My wife left me three months back… I was gonna be a dad..." The Texan's voice finally broke and he said no more.

Eddy seemed to have aged years in the time it took for him to speak that last sentence. Steve began to see his old friend for who he really was – he saw the sadness that was concealed so well behind the grumpy façade.

What happened next came as a complete shock – Rodriguez began to speak.

"I have point too, señor. My family… Dead. Murdered. Long, long time ago. You say in Mr Hammond's house that I am mercenary… No señor. I fight for only he who is right. Sí, I take money, but just to live on, to fill my guns with bullets. I think I am like you… Also." He explained softly.

There was more silence.

"Roddy… I never asked your name." Steve said at last.

"My name is Rodriguez, señor." The big Costa Rican replied, surprised.

"I meant your first name." Said Steve.

"Oh. I am… Pedro, señor. But nobody calls me that." He added hurriedly.

"Pedro. Well, I'm sorry Pedro. I had no idea… I had no right to say what I said about you." Said Steve. "Of course you're one of us; there's no way we'd have made it this far without you."

Rodriguez looked up. "So I am in the… Merry Men?" He asked solemnly.

It was all Steve and Johnny could do to keep a straight face at this reference.

"Pedro, without you, there can be no Merry Men." Steve responded as seriously as he could.

Rodriguez bowed his head. "I am honoured, señor. But enough talk – we must go save these niños. We must make plan." He got to his feet.

A half-smile played across Steve's face. "Well said." He stood.

Johnny was next to rise. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Eddy shook his head sadly and stood up.

"There, now we're all standing. Happy?" Steve was relieved to see Eddy back to his cantankerous old self.

"Extremely. But unless you all fancy bringing up two kids in a dinosaur infested theme park, I suggest we get a move on – we've got a chopper to catch."

"We're screwed. You'd better have a plan, Muldoon!" Eddy growled, but Steve detected the note of humour in his voice.

"Trust me." Steve replied lightly. "What was that about Merry Men?"


	9. Covert Ops

Steve was lying on his stomach in the thick undergrowth, trying desperately not to sneeze. The wood ash he had used to camouflage his face earlier was flaking off and floating up his nose, adding to his already significant discomfort.

_Note to self: never let Johnny cook anything, ever again._

Johnny had meant well when he'd spent most of the afternoon baking, but Steve suspected the two-year-old flour used to make the bread had acquired some rather exotic properties during its time in storage – properties that his stomach did not particularly appreciate.

The team had spent the remainder of the daylight hours in the warden's lodge, planning the evening's activities and gathering the equipment stored there. Rodriguez had spent a good hour foraging in the armoury, eventually emerging with an enormous rocket launcher and a huge smile – Steve was not sure which was the larger. As soon as darkness fell, the team had geared up and set off for the disused holding pens in one of the park's old standard issue gas jeeps. They had parked up slightly over a mile away, and now Steve was waiting impatiently for the others to take their places and set the master plan in motion.

_How long can it take Johnny to find a comfy bush?!_

Steve checked his watch for the umpteenth time. It had been dark for over two hours now and he had been in position for around fifteen minutes – the fact that he was situated not 50 yards away from the electrified fence didn't make him any more comfortable.

At long, long last, Steve's headset – a number of which Eddy had found in an old storage container, their range was no more than three miles so they could safely be used without detection – crackled into life.

"Little John to Robin Hood. Am in position." The voice belonged to Johnny.

_At bloomin' last._

Steve pressed the PT button on his headset and replied in hushed tones.

"Robin Hood, roger that."

A moment later, another voice sounded in Steve's ear.

"This is Fry Tuck. Move in, señor."

Steve suppressed a chuckle.

"Thank you, 'Fry Tuck'. Keep your eyes open, boys." He replied.

Rodriguez had insisted on the use of codenames ("Is more professional, señors") ever since Steve had outlined the plan. The big Costa Rican's reference to the Merry Men had reminded Steve of an old Robin Hood movie he had once seen. The film's heroes had sneaked into the fortified town of Nottingham under cover of darkness by means of ropes attached to arrows, which were fired over the town's walls. Robin Hood and his gang had then climbed over, freed the imprisoned townspeople and relieved the Sheriff of Nottingham of all his ill-gotten gains. Steve's plan was based on this.

"Scarlett. Good to go." Eddy's Texan drawl was the last voice to report in.

"Understood. Let's rock n' roll, gentlemen." Whispered Steve.

Positioning was crucial to the success of this operation. Johnny and Rodriguez were located on opposite sides of the camp, the former towards the rear and the latter just outside the hinged section that functioned as a gate. Both were equipped with military grade night vision goggles (as opposed to the chunky plastic ones carried in the visitor cars) and had been instructed to keep a lookout while Steve and Eddy went to work.

Steve took a careful look round and, satisfied he was unobserved, drew himself out of the undergrowth and began to glide towards the fence. This was where his experiences growing up in the African bush came into play; he was well practised at such stealthy manoeuvres and, although he hadn't used this specific skill set in a while, it was like riding a bike – you never forget.

The journey to the fence was uneventful and, mercifully, fairly silent. After taking another quick look around, he knelt down beside a tree stump and reached for the fence repair kit clipped to his belt. Steve allowed himself a moment of self-congratulation as he remembered opening the Velcro strap back at the lodge so as to make as little noise as possible in the field.

_I love it when I think of everything._

The fence repair kit was an exceptionally clever piece of equipment, allowing park rangers to fix faulty sections of wire without having to power down the entire fence. It simply consisted of a number of lengthy insulated wires, known as 'sparkies', tipped at both ends with powerful supercapacitors and specially designed alligator clips. These clips were designed to slice through a fence strand when applied, instantly redirecting the current into the corresponding capacitor. This allowed a few seconds for the ranger to apply the other clip and reroute the current around the damaged area, allowing the fence strand to be replaced without risk of electrocution.

Swiftly, Steve whipped out four sparkies from his kit and applied one to the lowest wire. There were sparks as the old wire section fell away, but no sound was made.

All good.

Steve did the same for the second wire – again, all went as expected. The third sparky also engaged without a hitch.

_Last one… Nice and steady._

The clips snapped shut and the old wire fell away without a single spark. Steve let go a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding and took a brief moment to admire the result of his handiwork – the metal wires had sagged around the four insulated strands, creating a loose section in the fence.

Steve pulled the uppermost sparky taught before whipping out a cable tie and securing the other three wires together. This created a hole at the base of the fence, just large enough to squeeze through.

Steve pressed the button on his headset again and addressed his 'Merry Men'.

"Nottingham breached. I'm moving in."

"Copy that, standing by." Eddy replied tersely.

"All clear, señor." Said Rodriguez.

Steve left the fence kit where it was – he would have no further need of it – and, pressing his body as close to the ground as he could, crawled under the narrow gap in the wire. As soon as he was well clear of the lethal fence, he rose up on one knee and surveyed his surroundings.

Although night had fallen a good while ago, the compound was partially illuminated by the light of the tropical moon and glow of the campfire embers. No lights shone through the canvas of any of the tents – the camp had either been left unattended or its occupants were fast asleep. Steve was glad of this; the plan relied on them being unaware of his presence.

_Maybe it's poker night at the Velociraptors' place?_

Satisfied the coast was clear, Steve turned to his right and darted towards the tent into which he had witnessed the men drag Lex earlier – no lights shone through the outer canvas.

"Alright, this is it. Watch my back." He whispered and drew his pistol.

"Got you covered." Johnny replied from his lookout, raising a scoped hunting rifle he had found back at the lodge.

Steve ducked inside the tent flap. Inside it was pitch black, the only sound an eerie electronic hum that sounded like it belonged to an air-conditioning unit. Flicking the switch on the M1911's taclight, he raised the weapon in both hands and carefully scanned the interior for signs of life. There were a few barrels, a handful of packing crates, a wooden trestle table, two chairs, a sizeable diesel generator and a device that vaguely resembled one of the refrigeration boxes from the laboratory that morning – apparently, that was where the humming sound was coming from.

_Strange…_

Steve tiptoed over to freezer, shone the taclight inside, and almost dropped his weapon as he saw what it contained. In the box were a number of the familiar sleek, black cylinders which bore the words 'Warning! Keep at below –20 degrees'. It was full of unhatched Raptor eggs.

_The plot thickens…_

"Uh, fellas?" He began.

"What's the matter Steve? Did ya find the kids?" Eddy replied immediately.

"No, but I did find something else. There's a whole box full of those black tubes in here. Unhatched." Steve explained. There was silence for a moment as the others digested his information.

"There'll be time for us to figure out what's going on later." Johnny cut in. "Any sign of Lex and Tim?"

"Not a thing… I'll check the next tent." Said Steve.

He would have dearly loved to slip one of the eggs into his pocket to show the others but, having seen what happened when they thawed out, decided against it.

_Last thing I need right now is a Raptor hatching in my back pocket._

Quietly shutting the lid, Steve holstered his pistol and disappeared out into the night, creeping around the circle of tents to the next one. Then, an urgent voice in his ear made him freeze.

"Señor! I mean, Robin Hood! There is a car coming!"

"Shit!" Steve dived for cover behind the nearest tent. He was out of sight not a moment too soon as the campsite was immediately illuminated in the headlights of a park gas jeep.

"Is that ours?" Steve asked.

"No señor." Rodriguez seemed certain. "This one is much… _Cleaner._"

Body pressed close to the ground, Steve peeked round the side of the tent and saw a man had disembarked from the jeep and was proceeding to open the gate, the rusting metal squealing in protest as he pushed on the insulated handle. The jeep was then driven in and the gate closed swiftly behind it, before another man got out and the two covered their vehicle with a heavy-duty camouflage net.

_I bloody hope they don't see the hole in the fence._

Luckily, however, the men were too deep in conversation to pay any attention to their surroundings, and when they were finished they made their way towards the tent directly opposite Steve's hiding place. The warden watched in horror as they opened the tent flap and bright light spilled out into the night, the sound of raucous laughter drifting across the campsite on the cool night breeze. There were apparently several other occupants of the tent as the newcomers were greeted loudly, then the flap closed and once again all fell silent.

_There were people in there the whole time!_

The tents must be made out of some kind of blackout material, Steve reasoned. This would make sense of course, as the camp would have to be hidden from prying aerial eyes. Whatever the case, his options were now somewhat limited; moving to the front of this tent and going in via the flap would be an extremely risky move, as there was no way of knowing if the canvas construction was under observation or, indeed, inhabited.

_Thank the lord there was nobody in that last tent, I'd have walked straight into them. Thinking about it, this may not have been such a good idea after all._

But then he remembered the boy in the alleyway back in London. The feeling of regret, of not having done something. Then, there was the little girl back in Kenya. His father's legacy. And most of all, the fear in the scream of Hammond's granddaughter.

_It makes no difference how risky this is. I can't abandon them now. I have to keep looking._

"We all clear?" Steve enquired.

"Looks good… We'll cover you while you make a break for the fence." Eddy suggested, but Steve's mind was already made up.

"Not likely. I'm gonna keep looking." Steve replied. The Texan's only response was a deep sigh, purposely transmitted over the airwaves.

Approaching the problem afresh, Steve reasoned that there was realistically only one other way in besides the tent flap. He moved closer to the tent and peered at the base; it was constructed of thick, green fabric, with the groundsheet stitched to the bottom of the walls.

_Hmm. Time for a more direct approach. Roddy would be proud._

Steve reached for the knife strapped to his left thigh and drew it, the blade's keen edge producing a musical hum as it slid from its sheath. He found a seam in the fabric of the tent and gently slid the blade of his knife against it, splitting the material cleanly and opening a small but effective peephole. He pressed his eye against the slit he had made; the interior of the tent was gloomy and the only light came from a dim camping lantern suspended at the far side of the tent; very close to where Steve imagined the flap would be.

_Good job I checked, anyone coming in there would be a sitting duck._

Casting his eye further around the tent, the young warden could just about make out some silhouetted items of furniture – a fold up table, a few chairs, a large pile of packing cases and… He struggled to see… An irregular shape tucked in beside them.

_That's either a person or a bloody weird shaped trouser press._

But the question is… Was it one of the kids?

_Or is it one of those kidnapper types from earlier…_

Steve knew he couldn't take the chance. He really didn't have much say in the matter – he was going in.

"Gents, I'm heading in the back way. Let me know if one of those blokes so much as sneezes."

"Copy that." Replied Eddy.

"Roger." Added Johnny.

"Be careful, señor." Finished Rodriguez.

The knife slipped easily into the canvas once more as Steve quickly cut himself an entrance. On completion of this task, he put away his knife and pulled his pistol from its holster, switching on the taclight and covering the bulb with his left hand. Then, moving slowly so as not to make the slightest sound, he pushed through the cut in the tent fabric and entered the dusk within.

It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, Steve saw he was right – it was indeed a human figure half hidden behind the pile of boxes. He decided with satisfaction that the figure must have its back to him, as it was apparently unaware of his presence.

Steve tiptoed closer, his taclight still covered, and circumnavigated the pile of crates. He ducked down and prepared himself.

_Alrighty, the moment of truth. 3… 2… 1… _

Then he was up and around the crates and face to face with the shadowy figure, now illuminated in the bright, unforgiving glare of the pistol's taclight. Sitting there, tied to a metal camping chair and staring at Steve with pure terror in his eyes, was young Timothy Murphy.


	10. Rescue

There was silence for a moment as the two stared at each other.

"Hey." Steve whispered at last.

Tim did not respond. He just gazed at the warden with those big, almond eyes – Steve hadn't witnessed fear like that in a long while, and it wasn't something he regretted.

"Hey, it's okay." Steve continued with a smile that was intended to be reassuring, but was never going to be nearly enough.

"I've come to take you home matey." Then Steve noticed the strip of gaffer tape covering Tim's mouth, preventing the boy from making a sound.

_Probably should have seen that before._

"Let's get that off you." The warden pointed to the tape. "But when I do, I need you to be really, really quiet - can you do that for me Timmy?"

Tim managed a tiny nod in reply, his eyes still fixed on Steve.

"Good lad."

Steve holstered his pistol and switched on his torch, placing it on a nearby box. He slowly moved towards the chair, approaching as one would a wild animal so as not to alarm the frightened youngster any more. Tim shied away from Steve's touch, straining to keep his small frame as far away from the warden as his bonds would allow.

"I won't hurt you matey. I promise."

Tim seemed to think for a moment, then slowly allowed Steve to come closer. The warden knelt beside him and gently supported the boy's head with both hands, feeling him shivering uncontrollably as he did so. Steve noticed he had no shirt on and was wearing only a torn pair of school shorts.

_Jesus christ…_

Steve carefully began to prise the tape away from Tim's mouth, running the fingers of his left hand down the back of the boy's neck as he did so – something he had used to do when calming the baby animals kept at the lodge back in Kenya. Thankfully, the tape came away quickly – apparently it had only recently been applied.

"There, I bet that feels better." Steve murmured. Tim promptly sneezed.

"W-W-Who… Who… Who are y-y-you?" He managed to stutter at last.

"Steve. You remember me?" Steve replied, making sure to keep eye contact as per Johnny's hostage care advice. "Jurassic Park, a couple of years ago? I was one of the park wardens. We escaped together." Then Steve remembered the blacking on his face and began scrubbing at it with his sleeve.

_No wonder the poor lad's scared, I must look like a bloody gremlin!_

"It's me, see?" A spark of recognition finally kindled in Tim's eyes and Steve saw his small body relax slightly.

"S-S-Steve? Y-Y-You were the one who k-k-killed the R-R-Raptors?" Tim asked, not quite believing his eyes.

"Me, kill the Raptors? I was under the impression it was them who damn near killed me…" Steve replied with a grin.

Tim managed a small smile in acknowledgement of this weak attempt at humour. Steve squeezed his shoulder comfortingly and knelt again to examine his bonds. The boy's wrists had been tied behind his back and his ankles to the chair he was perched on. Three cords were also looped around his chest, fastening him tightly to the back of the cold metal seat.

"Alrighty, we'll have you out of there in no time. Hold still for me."

Steve reached for his belt and drew his hunting knife, but the moment Tim saw the blade he jerked away, toppling the chair over backwards. Steve dropped the knife and caught the boy before he hit the ground.

"What's the matter matey?"

There was no reply. Tim just stared up at him, wide eyed and still trembling. Confused, Steve sat the chair back upright.

_What's the problem with the knife?_

"I'm just gonna cut through these ropes. There's nothing to worry about, okay?"

Tim studied Steve's wood ash smeared face intently. He forced himself to look at where the knife lay on the ground, then back at Steve again.

"Okay." Tim said finally, his voice barely audible.

Steve picked up his knife again. He moved slowly and, making sure to stay within Tim's vision, sliced through the ropes restraining the boy's ankles. Then he did the same for the cords around his chest, noting with displeasure the burn marks they left behind.

"See, nothing to worry about…" Steve repeated, gently lifting the youngster out of the chair and sitting him down on a nearby packing crate – he was surprisingly light. Then, he cut the ropes binding Tim's wrists, before taking off his jacket and wrapping it around the boy's bare shoulders.

"Thank you." Tim said softly.

"No problem matey. Give those hands a good old rub." Steve collected the remains of the restraints and hid them underneath an empty barrel.

Tim began massaging his wrists as instructed. "Did… Did my grandpa send you?" He asked hopefully.

"Sort of." Steve smiled. "But we'll have a chat about that later. Right now, we need to get you out of here."

Steve made as if to pick Tim up, but the boy pulled away at the mention of moving and tried to get to his feet. His legs wouldn't hold him though and he fell backwards awkwardly, but Steve was by his side in a flash and caught him once again.

"Woah there, take it easy."

"We can't go… We can't!" Tim protested frantically.

"Shh, it's okay." Steve tried to calm the boy, setting him back on the packing crates and sitting down beside him. "Why can't we?"

"They… They might do… Bad things… To Lex." Tim struggled to get the words out. "We can't go without her! He repeated desperately, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. Steve's heart went out to the youngster – he couldn't imagine how scary this must have been for him.

"I see. But don't you worry, nobody's going to leave your sister anywhere – I promise. Do you trust me, Timmy?" Tim looked up at Steve searchingly, his face streaked with tears. Steve imagined this was the first time in days he had the chance to trust anyone.

"They said we musn't try and escape any more, or else… Or else…" Tim's voice broke. Steve placed an arm around the boy's shoulders and held him tight, feeling Tim's eleven-year-old body trembling ever-so-slightly against his own. The boy huddled closer to Steve and buried his face in the safety of the warden's shoulder.

"It's okay matey, I've got you. It's gonna be okay." Steve murmured.

_Kid gets attacked by a Rex, thrown off a cliff, falls out of a tree, gets electrocuted, almost eaten by a gang of Raptors, attacked by the Rex again and doesn't so much as blink an eye. Compare that to a few days with these blokes and he's in pieces. These scumbags have a lot to answer for._

Steve gently raised Tim's chin with his thumb and wiped away his tears with the sleeve of his jacket. "Deep breath for me."

Tim made a tremendous effort to control his breathing and, after a few moments, succeed. "S-S-Sorry…" He mumbled, a hint of shame creeping into his voice.

"None of this is your fault matey. They don't come much braver than you." Steve replied.

Tim's face broke into a smile at the compliment from his rescuer. Following the events on the island two years ago, the warden had become something of a legendary figure in the boy's eyes – Steve's heroics were such that his praise meant the world to Tim. At last, Dr. Allan Grant had competition. Slightly less spiky competition.

"Thanks." He replied. Steve ruffled his hair.

"Now look matey… I hate to have to ask you this, I really do, but I need to know what happened here. Is there anything you know that might help me find Lex?"

Tim thought for a moment, then began shakily.

"L-L-Lex and me tried to r-r-run away… I d-d-don't know how l-l-long ago. They caught us b-b-but we r-r-ran again… And then they t-t-took our c-c-clothes…"

Tim paused and, remembering Steve's instructions, took several deep breaths.

"Take your time." Steve squeezed the boy's shoulder.

But preferably not too much. We're on the clock here.

Thankfully, Tim continued quickly. "W-W-When we t-t-tried to g-g-get away last time, the men t-t-tied us up in here. Then… I don't know how l-l-long ago… Before it got d-d-dark I think… They came back for Lex and t-t-took her away w-w-with them. I h-h-haven't seen h-h-her since… I t-t-tried to s-s-stop them but I b-b-banged my h-h-head and… And… I c-c-couldn't do anything…" Tim looked close to tears again.

Steve stepped in. "It's not your fault matey. Trust me, those blokes are pretty big lads – even bloody Hulk Hogan would struggle to take them all on."

Tim didn't look entirely convinced, but more importantly, Steve was no closer to finding Lex. Still, the warden couldn't afford to let Tim know that.

"Anyway, that's just what I needed to know. Top work matey."

Tim managed a weak smile in response. Two compliments from the mythical dinosaur keeper? It was almost worth getting kidnapped for. Steve winked back and pressed the transmit button on his headset.

"I've got Tim." He explained simply. "Lex must be in one of the other tents."

"Great work, Steve-o." Eddy replied. "You gonna need backup?"

Steve considered this carefully. "What's it look like, gents?"

"All clear, señor." Rodriguez responded.

"Ditto." Johnny agreed.

"Okay, here's how we're gonna work it. Eddy, you go and find Lex. Johnny, get in position for extract, then go with Roddy to fetch the jeep – call in when you're good to go. Are we clear?"

"Copy that. Said Eddy.

"Affirmative." Said Johnny.

"Sí señor! Fry Tuck is moving out." Rodriguez replied happily. Steve broke off from the conversation, satisfied the wheels were in motion.

"There you go Timmy, a mate of mine's going to find Lex. She's gonna be fine."

Tim sniffed quietly and nodded. "Who's… 'Eddy'?" He asked.

"He's an old friend. Used to work at Jurassic Park with me." Steve explained.

"He's a dinosaur keeper too? Which ones?" Tim asked suddenly, instantly cheering up at the mention of the prehistoric creatures. Steve smiled as he saw the boy's eager expression – his passion for dinosaurs had apparently not been quashed by the events of two years ago; he was just as fascinated as the warden remembered.

"Triceratops." Steve lied, not wanting to mention Raptors at this point, despite Tim's interest. "If you ask him nicely, I'm sure he'll tell you all about them later on."

Tim was apparently delighted at this notion. "That's so cool!"

"I reckon." Steve agreed. "Now then, shall we see about getting you out of here?"

"I guess." Tim's stutter had disappeared at the first mention of dinosaurs and he was almost instantly much calmer. Steve got to his feet, picked up his torch and offered the boy his hand.

"Let's see if you can stand."

Tim swayed and only managed two steps before his legs began to buckle. Steve caught him again, then had a sudden realisation.

"Timmy, you said you banged your head – how bad?" He asked.

"It's okay…" Tim brushed the question off.

"Can I have a look?"

"I guess…" Tim repeated noncommittally.

Steve bent down and gently brushed the boy's blond curls off his forehead, revealing a large gash hidden beneath. The warden cursed himself soundly as he saw the surrounding hair was matted with blood.

_Why didn't I check to see if he was hurt?! Idiot!_

As Steve's fingers approached the injury, he felt Tim tensing up in preparation for the pain he was obviously expecting. The cut had clearly bled profusely, and even now it hadn't completely stopped.

_l'm no expert, but I'd say leaking that much can't be healthy._

Steve lowered himself to Tim's eye level. "Don't worry matey, it's just a little cut. Did you hear me talk to Johnny just then?"

Tim nodded.

"Well, Johnny's a doctor – we're going to go and see him. He'll get you all fixed up, but for now, I'll carry you. Okay?"

The boy was too weak to protest.

Steve lifted Tim up and carried him in his arms towards the hole in the back of the tent. The boy was lightly built and easy for someone of the warden's stature to carry, so they were able to make their way straight through the hole in the canvas and out into the night. The weather had turned chilly and, despite the jacket, Steve could feel Tim shivering once again.

'Angry' was not an emotion the Muldoon family looked favourably upon – Bob had always encouraged his son to look upon situations calmly and find a peaceable solution for all concerned. However, upon the rare occasions that 'angry' reared its ugly countenance, the situation usually did not end well for the antagonists. The fury of a Muldoon was, thus, not something one should wish to incur, but Steve was angry now. The warden was positively fuming.

How dare they kidnap these kids, hadn't they been through enough already? Bastards trussed them up like chickens and now it turns out they've beaten Tim…

At least, Steve doubted Tim had voluntarily head-butted a sharp object.

_Well, this ain't right. Not cricket. Not something I'm about to let go._

Bob had also said often that the main characteristic of the family was a powerful sense of right and wrong – something Steve had most definitely inherited. And if that didn't apply to this situation, Steve didn't know what did.

_I'll find a way to make these wankers pay._

Another Muldoon trademark was an exceptional vocabulary of obscenities.

Steve picked his way through the darkness towards the breach in the fence. As he approached, he could see Johnny crouching on the other side, furiously demonstrating an impressive command of obscure military hand gestures. Ignoring his antics, Steve set Tim down on the ground and whispered in his ear.

"Okay Timmy, keep nice and low and you'll be fine. No climbing for you this time."

The boy barely acknowledged the instruction but somehow found the energy to drag himself under the fence. Johnny suddenly forgot about his signalling and helped Tim clamber to his feet, catching him when he collapsed almost immediately. The ex-marine looked at Steve questioningly from the other side of the wire. The warden lay down and pulled his torso under the fence so he could speak to Johnny.

"He's got a nasty cut on his head which needs seeing to." Steve explained, keeping his voice low so Tim couldn't hear. "Only thing he's got on is that jacket, so better kit him out with something warm to wear. Also, can you see about getting him something to eat? Reckon the poor lad's exhausted."

Johnny nodded in response and carefully lifted Tim onto his shoulder, carrying him away from the fence to where Rodriguez was keeping watch from the tree line. Steve was about to pull the remainder of himself out from under the fence when his earpiece crackled into life. It was Eddy.

"So, d'ya want the good news or the bad news?"

"Good news." Steve sighed, abandoning his efforts to leave the campsite.

"Good news is, I found the girl." The Texan replied. "Bad news is, they handcuffed her to a god dang packin' box. I tried filin' through it, but no dice – we're gonna need the key."

"And does she know where the key is?"

"Yeah, but you're not gonna like it."

"Let me guess… In the tent with all the blokes in?"

"You got it."

"Then you're right, I'm not gonna like it. I'm gonna love it."

Eddy was silent for a moment. Then, "You feelin' okay?" He enquired.

Steve chuckled. "On top of the world. Meet me outside."

The warden crept across the compound towards the tent he had seen the two men enter, the sound of laughter growing ever louder as he approached. Moments later, Eddy joined him outside.

"You sure about this?" The Texan asked worriedly.

"Can you think of another way? Besides, you didn't see what they did to Tim. Will be a bloody pleasure putting the frighteners on these bastards." Steve whispered back. "You coming, or what?"

"You know full well I ain't lettin' you go in there alone, but just so you know, I think you're crazy." Said Eddy, already resigned to the prospect.

"Oh, I'm crazy alright." Steve words were mirthless as he drew his weapon. "Completely stark, staring mad."

Eddy also drew his pistol, struggling to suppress a smile as he did so. Mad or not, Steve was a proper character with his heart in the right place – and truth be told, Eddy would follow him anywhere.

Together, they moved closer to the tent flap. Steve motioned to Eddy to flank the entrance and the Texan obeyed silently, gripping his handgun firmly and crouching like a leopard ready to spring.

_Enough wildlife analogies. Time to get down to business._

Steve held three fingers on his left hand aloft. Eddy nodded his understanding. The young warden dropped one finger. Then two. Then three. And then they went in.


	11. Magician Impossible

"Good evening, gentlemen. Please, don't bother getting up."

The sight that met Steve's eyes when he burst into the tent would stay with him for the rest of his life. Five men were seated around a ridiculously small fold up table – funnily enough, they were indeed playing cards and, judging by the empty bottles on the table, drinking heavily. But what really set the scene off was the look of utter shock and surprise etched on their faces; their jaws dropped comically as the two wardens made their entrance. Steve couldn't resist a dig at their open-mouthed horror.

"I'm sorry, did we forget to knock?"

Eddy, trying desperately to keep a straight face, stepped forward and levelled his pistol in the direction of the startled occupants.

"Party's over, boys. Hands where I can see 'em."

The men, still shell-shocked, instinctively obeyed and raised their hands above their heads. Steve, impressed, took a moment to savour the sight.

_Well, that was easy._

"Alright you lot, here's what's gonna happen. You're going to give my esteemed colleague here the key to the girl's handcuffs. Then, you're going to tell me where you're keeping their clothes. Finally, you are not going to try any funny business. Do we have an accord?" Steve explained crisply. He was met with a sullen silence – apparently the men had got over their initial surprise.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'. Now, the key – where is it?." Steve continued.

The silence remained unbroken.

"Tell the man what he wants to know!" Eddy waved his pistol menacingly.

"Or else what?"

It was the man standing directly opposite them who spoke. He was short and bulky, with a greasy black comb-over and a strong American accent – certainly not the voice of the Costa Rican mobster Steve had been expecting. In fact, he was probably more comparable to a medium-sized gorilla.

"You gonna shoot us? Eh? Eh?!" The man continued, his tone more and more mocking by the syllable. Two of the others, who were apparently almost identical to their leader, sniggered and experimentally began to lower their hands. Eddy sensed he was about to lose control of the situation and sidled up to his Steve, intending on enquiring as to what exactly his colleague _was_ planning on doing.

However, before he could speak, Steve shot the man in the leg.

The unfortunate kidnapper hit the deck like a sack of spuds, letting out a strangled scream and clutching at the neat .45 hole in his upper thigh.

"You asked." Steve observed, his face expressionless. "Would you like me to repeat the question?" The seemingly innocent words dripped with venom.

Save for the whimpers of the wounded man, there was silence in the tent once again – at least, there would have been, if the occupants' ears hadn't been ringing too loudly to detect it. Steve waited for a moment, sighed wearily and raised his pistol once again, this time trained on another of the identikit kidnappers.

"Who's next?" He asked pointedly.

For a moment, Eddy thought that Steve may actually go through with his threat for a second time, but luckily he never had the chance to find out. This last action had been enough to push one of the remaining kidnappers over the edge and he stepped forward, hands waggling high above his head in surrender. He was taller and much thinner than the gorilla impersonator Steve had shot, with a shock of blond hair flawlessly smoothed back behind his ears. The warden subconsciously wondered how long he must spend in front of the mirror every morning.

Steve lowered his weapon in acknowledgement of the gesture.

"Let's all just calm down, shall we?" The man said, his voice high pitched and whiny. Steve was having none of it.

"Where's the key?" He growled. "I won't ask you again."

"Key? What key?"

Steve's pistol was back trained on the man almost before he had finished speaking.

_Maybe I should just shoot him? Make the world a better place?_

"Okay, okay, don't shoot! Please don't shoot!" The kidnapper sidestepped towards the central tent pole and unhooked a bunch of keys. "It's on here!"

"Now that's more like it." Steve snatched the keys from the man's trembling grasp and handed it to Eddy. The Texan took it wordlessly, his eyes never leaving the group of kidnappers.

"Go and get her out. Give me a shout when you're done." Steve instructed.

"What are ya gonna do, Steve?" Eddy asked, concerned. "You do realise these assholes ain't just gonna stand there and let ya leave, right?"

"Don't argue Eddy, just do it." Steve snapped back, but the words were empty. He had no plan.

"Okay, okay! Just… Be careful." Conceded Eddy.

Steve nodded his response. Realising this was as good as he was going to get, Eddy turned and left the tent with a trademark shake of the head.

"See, there's no need for violence." The thin man began boldly. "Steven, isn't it? My name is Dodgson. Lewis Dodgson."

_That name rings a bell…_

"Do I know you?" Steve asked sharply.

"You may not remember me, but I remember you. Such a shame about your father. Robert was a good man, and yet so ill-advised to work for the old fool on such a whim as this." Said Dodgson.

"How dare you mention my dad!" Steve replied angrily. "Scum like you aren't worthy to say his name."

"Think about it, Steven." Dodgson paid no heed to the gun Steve was brandishing furiously in his direction. "What we are doing here is purely to teach the old man a lesson. We have no quarrel with the children – as soon as he brings us the eggs, we shall return them unharmed." He had the audacity to throw Steve a smarmy smile. "Isn't that what you want, Steven? To teach him a lesson? The man responsible for the death of your own father?"

Then, things happened very quickly.

"Steve, it's not on here! The key's not on here!" Eddy's voice crackled urgently in his ear. Dodgson, sensing something was amiss, produced a miniature revolver from nowhere and fired from the hip. Steve detected this movement out of the corner of his eye and hurled himself behind a pile of packing crates, feeling the bullet whizz past his cheek.

"Shit! We've been played!" Steve shouted into his microphone as another shot impacted the wooden boxes. The warden squeezed off a shot in reply, sending those that were still mobile scurrying for cover. The injured kidnapper, who was apparently not nearly as tough as he had initially tried to make out, could only lie there squealing as the firefight ensued over his head.

"Steve! You ok?" Eddy yelled into his ear.

"Never better." Replied Steve, exchanging fire with one of the gorilla triplets who had produced what sounded like a 9mm pistol.

The warden glanced around the tent and immediately set his eyes upon something promising – there was a trestle table situated to his right, upon which sat two pairs of shoes and a metallic object glinting in the lamplight.

_Could be keys!_

Steve fired off the penultimate round in his magazine and ducked down again, placing his back to the crates.

"Hang tight, I'm comin'!" Eddy spoke in his ear breathlessly.

"Negative, stay where you are." Replied Steve. "I think I can get the key".

"Don't try anythin' stupid, Steve!" Eddy said desperately.

"Me, anything stupid? Perish the thought." Steve grinned and fished around in his trouser pocket. He found what he was looking for, ripped the pin out with his teeth, and began counting.

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

The flash-bang grenades had made up yet another part of Bob Muldoon's extensive armoury. Designed specifically to disrupt the vision of predators that use a movement-based optic nerve, a chemical reaction would take place eight-second after the pin had been removed, instantly producing a mesmerising bright light. A welcome side effect of this was the loud bang that accompanied it, earning the versatile weapons their name.

_Four._

_Five._

_Six._

_Abracadabra!_

Steve flung the grenade over his shoulder and just had time to rip off his headset, stuff his fingers in his ears and close his eyes tight shut before it went off.

_And for my next trick…_

Steve leapt up and vaulted over the packing crates, snapping a fresh magazine into his M1911 as he did so. He reached the trestle table in a flash (pun intended) and grabbed both pairs of shoes, noticing with satisfaction that the metallic object was indeed a key.

_I'll take that._

He turned and made a dash for the door, ducking down low as Dodgson reared up and blindly emptied his revolver. As Steve reached the tent flap, he spun around and clinically dispatched each of the four lanterns that hung from the tent poles, plunging the interior of the tent into pitch darkness. Diving outside, he fastened the tent flap shut after him and took a deep, calming breath of the cool night air.

_That should buy us a couple of minutes, at least._

He turned and sprinted for the tent Eddy had appeared from earlier. He was halfway there when a bone-shaking collision knocked him clean off his feet, but after a brief struggle, a wonderfully familiar Texan drawl muttered, "What the hell d'ya think you're playin' at?"

"Eddy!" Steve was mightily relieved; then, not so much. "I thought I told you to stay put?"

"I couldn't get in touch with ya on the radio." Eddy explained. "Reckoned they mighta got ya or sommat."

Steve grinned. "I lost it in the firefight, but I did settle their hash with one of dad's old flash-bangs. They'll be seeing stars for half an hour after that."

Eddy chuckled. "Gotta love it. And the key?"

Steve nodded. "Found it. Got the kids' shoes, as well."

"Then what're we waitin' for?!"

They turned and ran for the cover of the tent containing Lex, which seemed to take an eternity to reach. When at last Steve and Eddy hurled themselves inside, the men had already begun shouting and, by the sound of things, were searching for the elusive tent flap. Then, a female voice sounded from somewhere deep inside the tent.

"Mike… Is that you?"

"I'm back, and I've brought a buddy!" Eddy regained enough breath to form a sentence and was obviously making an effort to appear reassuring; similar to Steve had done with Tim.

The two went over to her. Steve saw in the half-light that she was sitting perched on a pile of boxes, her right hand cuffed to a large packing crate. Steve saw a pile of cords next to her that Eddy must have removed earlier.

"Hey, Lex. Long time no see!" Steve greeted her brightly. His first impression was how much more grown up she looked now – despite the grime and torn clothing, she still looked defiant and unbroken; a perfect contrast to when they had first met, over two years ago.

"Steve!" She exclaimed, recognising him immediately.

"Well, at least you remember me! Which is more than I can say for your little brother…" Steve smiled at her as he unfastened the handcuffs – thankfully, they key was a perfect fit and turned easily in the lock. Seeing this, Eddy went to poke his head out of the tent flap to check on the kidnappers' progress.

"By the way, you should call him Eddy. It winds him up a treat." Steve whispered loudly, handing the girl her shoes.

"Ya do know I can hear ya'll." Eddy's voice drifted over from the tent flap.

Lex giggled at the Texan's indignant tone, but was quickly serious again. "You found Timmy? Is he okay?"

"Don't worry, he's safe. Our medic is looking after him now. He's got a bit of a cut on his head and was scared out of his wits when I found him, but he's in good hands." Steve related briefly. "Right now though, we're going to get you out of here. How's it looking, Eddy?" This last part was directed at the warden. As if to answer his question, a bullet pierced the canvas and whistled uncomfortably close overhead.

"Get down!" Eddy hissed, drawing his pistol and unleashing a volley in the general direction of the shooters. Apparently, the men had found a way out of their tent and were now looking to extract their vengeance.

"Bloody hell." Steve voiced everyone's thoughts. "Looks like we're pinned down. Any word from the others?"

"Not recently." Replied Eddy, tapping his headset worriedly. "I think the batteries might be dying."

"Oh, that's just great." Steve muttered, then remembered their young companion. "Don't worry, we're gonna be fine." He winked at her. She managed a slight smile back, but she was clearly old enough to understand the gravity of the situation – no escape route, no backup, and dwindling ammunition.

"How many mags you on?" Eddy asked tersely.

"Last one." Steve replied.

"I've got two." Said the Texan. "Here, you'd better take one. You're a better shot than me." He handed the .45 magazine over.

Steve couldn't believe his ears. Normally, his friend would rather die than admit someone was a superior marksman to himself. Perhaps that emphasised just how desperate the situation was – they were in deep trouble, there was no doubt about it.

That was when the tent on their left blew up.


	12. One Angry Costa Rican

"_Buenas noches_, bitches!"

A familiar voice rang out across the campsite. Silhouetted by the flames from the burning tent, the massive Costa Rican dropped his rocket launcher and opened up with both M16s, somehow managing to grip one in each of his meaty fists. Unsurprisingly, the kidnappers dived for cover upon sight of the Hispanic angel of death, all thought of the two wardens suddenly forgotten.

"Run, run, I'm coming for you!" The mighty merc bellowed heartily, kicking down the gate and advancing into the enclosure. Steve guessed the missile must have destroyed the generator for the electric fence, rendering it useless.

"I take it he's with you?" Lex asked as she began pulling on her shoes. Steve couldn't help but marvel at her coolness under such conditions – it was truly remarkable how much she had changed in the past two years.

_Suppose two years can do a lot to someone… I should know._

"I… Hope so." Eddy replied, a little unsure of whether Rodriguez was bravely attempting to save their lives or had gone completely crazy and was trying to kill them. Steve had no such concerns.

"Let's go. Stay close."

He darted out of tent flap, bent double and zigzagging to avoid the fiery stream of tracers issuing from Rodriguez's weapons. Lex followed without hesitation, forcing Eddy to do the same.

Before they were halfway to the gate, the big Costa Rican ran out of ammunition. He cursed in Spanish as he began to reload both his assault rifles with impressive speed, but alas, not quite quickly enough. One of the gorilla triplets popped his head up from behind an empty oil drum and, seeing that the coast was clear, emptied the magazine of his handgun in the general direction of the escaping fugitives. Now, gorilla #2's head was still spinning from the effects of Steve's flash-bang so the majority of the projectiles flew wide, but somehow the last one found a mark and ended up clipping Eddy's left thigh. The Texan span backwards and hit the ground with a muffled 'oof'.

"Eddy!" Steve flung up his pistol and unleashed a volley at the kidnapper, who hastily abandoned his hiding place and dived for cover behind a nearby tent. The warden didn't follow, instead sprinting back to where his colleague lay on the ground.

"Ouch." The Texan muttered helpfully.

Steve gestured to Lex to carry on running and hoisted Eddy up, half-carrying his colleague towards the gate. Rodriguez finished changing his magazines and recommenced the suppressive fire, covering their retreat.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch." Eddy observed plaintively with every step.

"Don't be such a baby." Steve said sternly. Eddy continued bleeding.

"Is time for us to go, eh señors?" Rodriguez was not far behind the wardens as they reached the gate. He slung one of the rifles over his shoulder as he retreated, using his free hand to pull the pin from a grenade and hurling the explosive in the direction of the kidnappers' parked jeep. The vehicle went up with a muffled _*crump*_ as its fuel tank ignited, sparking strangled screams from the inhabitants of the burning campsite.

"Definitely." Steve agreed. Lex left her position by the gatepost and came to help the wardens, holding Eddy's other arm and guiding them out into the jungle.

"Thanks big guy. Thought we were goners back there for a second." Eddy spoke as the Costa Rican reached the gate. Rodriguez waved away the grattitude.

"Is no problem. Pity I no kill the _pajeros_."

As nobody really wanted to know the exact translation of 'pajeros', Steve changed the subject.

"We have to get out of here before those wankers pull themselves together. How far to the jeep?"

"I left _el niño_ with señor Johnny to be safe. About a mile. Will señor Eddy make it?" Rodriguez cast a critical glance at Eddy's wounded leg.

"Of course." Steve said matter-of-factly, pulling off his t-shirt and wrapping it around the Texan's leg – a makeshift tourniquet.

"Knew you'd find a way to get your shirt off." Eddy grumbled. Steve grinned as he finished the bandage.

"Lead the way big man."

Rodriguez shrugged and strode off into the trees. Steve motioned for Lex to follow him, before unceremoniously hoisting Eddy up and helping his colleague hop through the undergrowth. The Texan gritted his teeth and chuntered darkly, but continued without an audible word.

They walked/hopped/bulldozed (as applicable) for a time that seemed indeterminate. Rodriguez ploughed a path through the jungle with the assistance of a torch and the butt of one of his M-16s, while Lex, Steve and Eddy plugged along in his wake. At long last, they rounded a large tree and came upon the jeep – Rodriguez had exercised great cunning in parking it with the headlamps facing a large rock, hiding the glow from prying eyes while creating a pool of light. Johnny, who was sitting with his back to the side of the vehicle alongside a much perkier looking Tim, got up to greet them. Lex's face lit up upon sight of her brother and she immediately ran over to him, enveloping the boy in a massive hug. Tim squirmed and murmured something about not being able to breathe, but his protests were half-hearted he returned his sister's embrace. The others couldn't help but smile as they watched.

"Hey, you be careful with him now!" Johnny grinned, before turning to the others. "Sounds like you boys 'ad quite the party." He remarked cheerfully.

"Is good." Rodriguez replied simply, bumping fists with the medic. Even the mercenary's normally impassive features wore a slight smile at the kids' display of affection as he went to deposit his assault rifles on the back seat of the jeep. The other three exchanged huge grins and shook hands in turn, before embracing in celebration.

"Fuckin' heroic boys."

"Bloody brilliant."

"Badass mate. Absolutely badass."

_Kinda makes it all worthwhile._

"Eddy, you're bleeding mate." Johnny noticed the wound on the Texan's left leg.

"Just a scratch." Eddy replied carelessly, the adrenaline still pumping.

"You've changed your tune." Steve remarked.

"I'd better take a look." Johnny ignored them both and led the warden to where his medical kit lay on the ground at the front of the jeep. Steve thumped him on the back good-naturedly and headed over to the kids, where Lex had finally released Tim from her grasp and was now sitting as close to him as was physically possible.

"Hey." Steve crouched down beside them.

"Hey Steve." Lex replied with a smile wide enough to engulf the jeep she was sat against. "Listen, thanks for… Well, you know…"

Steve chuckled. "Anytime." He ruffled Tim's hair. "You're looking a lot better now matey."

Tim grinned up at him. "Johnny gave me chocolate." He explained.

Steve winked back. "Plenty more where that came from." The boy seemed completely different now that he was away from his captors and back with his sister.

"You'd be surprised at the natural 'ealing powers of a Mars bar." Johnny came over to join them and tossed two more bars in the direction of the kids. They caught them deftly.

_Must be still into baseball, if memory serves. Funny the things I can remember from that night._

"Other brands are available." Steve quipped. Johnny laughed and motioned to the warden to step aside.

"Can I have a word?"

"Sure thing."

They moved out of earshot of the children.

"Okay, so I stitched up that cut on the lad's 'ead and dressed a couple of lacerations to his wrists and ankles. But 'e's got some pretty tasty bruising to 'is chest and I'd say a couple of broken ribs. I've set 'im up with some pain relief but 'e's gonna need 'ospital and an x-ray before long."

Steve nodded. "Told me he fell against a wooden crate when he was trying to protect his sister."

Johnny cocked his head at this. "That's an 'ell of a lot of damage to do from just tripping over. Symptoms of a beating if ever I saw 'em."

"Wouldn't surprise me." Steve replied. "You should have seen the state I found him in – trussed up like a bloody chicken."

Johnny shook his head in disgust. "That just ain't right. Seems to be one 'eck of a brave lad though – didn't flinch once when I was fixing 'im up, just kept going on about these bleedin' dinos…"

***Thump***

_Speak of the devil._

The two exchanged glances, almost as if to confirm they had both not so much heard the noise, but felt the vibration through their combat boots. A cold dread began to form in the pit of Steve's stomach as the ground shook again.

***Thump***

Eddy limped over to them. "Thunderstorm?" He suggested hopefully.

***Thump***

"What was that?" Lex froze, mid-bite.

"Nothing, just the wind." Steve replied automatically.

***Thump***

_Please don't. Not now._

"Steve." Eddy murmured in his colleague's ear urgently.

"W-w-what is it?" Lex repeated. She had suddenly gone as white as a sheet.

***Thump***

"What, Eddy?"

"The big girl's a predator."

***Thump***

"So?"

Lex got to her feet slowly, all thoughts of eating forgotten. Silently, deliberately, she began to scrape away the layer of grime covering the driver's side door of the jeep.

_What the hell is she doing?_

"C'mon, Steve. Use your head. What's the Rex scared of?"

***Thump***

***Thump***

***Thump***

And all the realisations came at once.

_Oh shit. Fire. Rexy is scared of fire. We've only gone and smoked her out._

Then;

_The kids don't know we're on Isla Nublar._

***Thump***

Steve had taken this fact completely for granted, but now it seemed so blindingly obvious – as far as the kids were concerned, they had been locked up in a tent in the middle of the jungle. They could have been anywhere.

_Anywhere at all._

***Thump***

"Uh, Lex, Tim? There's something you should know…"

***Thump***

Lex had uncovered the Jurassic Park logo emblazoned on the grubby vehicle door and was backing away from the jeep as if it were a dinosaur itself.

_Too late_.

"Oh no. No, no, no, no, no!" She panicked.

***Thump***

"Now just calm down Lex…" Steve began.

***Boom***

It was getting nearer.

"We're back on the i-i-island! With the d-d-dinosaurs! Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh god!"

Rodriguez picked the girl up from behind. Lex struck out and tried to kick him, but the big Costa Rican held firm. He looked over at the others.

"Señors. We need to move. Now."

***Boom***

Steve sprang into action. "Everyone, into the jeep. Look sharp."

***Boom***

Johnny ran to collect his medical kit. Eddy made his painful way over to the jeep and hauled himself up onto the back seat. Rodriguez deposited Lex beside him, strapped her in so she couldn't escape, then took a flying leap into the driver's seat.

***Boom***

"Let's go, señors!"

Johnny hurdled the bonnet and took his place alongside Rodriguez, while Steve raced to collect Tim. The boy was still sitting frozen against the side of the vehicle, staring at the logo on the door. Steve scooped him up and slid in next to Lex and Eddy on the rear seat, sitting Tim down firmly on his knee.

***Boom***

"Let's rock 'n roll big guy!" Eddy yelled. Rodriguez gleefully obliged, gunning the engine and shooting backwards down the overgrown track. Within seconds they had reached the main service road and the Costa Rican executed a textbook handbrake turn to set them facing away from the burning campsite.

***CRASH***

The Rex appeared out of the jungle, less than a hundred feet away. She paused and raised her dripping maw to the skies, unleashing an ear splitting battle cry.

"Well fuck me through an 'edge backwards." Johnny exclaimed quietly.

"Language, doc. Kids present." Eddy had a habit of taking the mick when he was nervous.

Rodriguez floored the accelerator. He had a habit of driving fast when he nervous; or in any other mood, for that matter. Behind them, the Rex began to trundle forwards in pursuit.

Tim looked up at Steve urgently. "We need to not move. It can't see us if we don't move."

Steve laughed. "Not this time matey. We don't want you to end up in a tree again."

"Aaaaaaaagh!" Johnny let out a decidedly feminine scream as Rodriguez swerved violently to avoid a sapling sprouting from the tarmac. They had nearly ended up in a tree, again.

"Jesus, Roddy! I think I'd rather take me chances with the dinosaur!"

"_¡Que te folle un pez!_" Rodriguez bellowed in the general direction of the Rex, tail-sliding the jeep around a sharp bend by the old Segisaurus pen. The dinosaur simply burst straight through the jungle, cutting the corner altogether.

"¡_Coño_! How fast can this_ cabrón _run?!" The Costa Rican raged.

"Forty, fifty… Give or take." Eddy shouted back. Somehow, Steve didn't think it had been a question, and he very much doubted that '_cabrón' _translated as 'blithering idiot'.

Tim looked confused. "But… I thought they could only run at twenty miles per hour?"

"Yeah, and the Raptors should have feathers and the Dilos shouldn't be able to spit poisonous bile!" Eddy snapped. "Artistic shittin' licence, I don't know!"

"Language!" Johnny said over his shoulder, clinging to his seat for dear life.

A warning from Steve prevented Eddy's retort. "Lads… We've got a problem!"

"Another one?!" Eddy twisted in his seat. Then; "Oh god, there's another one. That's not what I meant."

Sure enough, a second Tyrannosaur had taken up the chase. Although this one was slightly smaller than the first, it seemed quicker, and was fast gaining on the jeep.

"¡_Me cago en el leche de tu puta fea madre!"_ Rodriguez screamed his defiance and crunched the gears furiously.

"Language." Johnny and Eddy commented simultaneously. It was more a hushed appreciation of the Costa Rican's skill in profanity than anything else.

The pursuing Tyrannosaurs called to each other and began to draw closer to the rear of the jeep, despite Rodriguez's best efforts. The road was just too windy to pick up enough speed to escape, and the wheels kept skidding on the uneven surface as the mercenary applied the brakes. In a somewhat futile gesture, Eddy drew his pistol and emptied the magazine into the smaller Rex – the bullets served only to drive the creature into a frenzy, and it reared up with a scream of rage before resuming the chase. Eddy threw his weapon down in frustration.

"Seriously, don't bullets work on any 'o these firetruckers?!" Then to Johnny; "See, censored."

"We're gonna die. We're gonna die. I don't wanna die." Lex whimpered beside Steve, who placed a comforting arm around her.

"Shh, it's gonna be ok. You're gonna be fine, I promise."

Perhaps unsurprisingly, she didn't look convinced. Steve glanced back over his shoulder and saw it was going to be a matter of seconds before they were Rex meat. Now, Steve had no desire to be Rex meat. But he did have a plan.

"I promise." He said again. "Trust me?."

Lex searched out his eye contact. Tim answered for her. "You're the man who killed the Raptors. 'Course we trust you."

Steve squeezed the boy's shoulder. "Thanks mate. You lot, trust me?" He addressed the other occupants of the jeep.

"Does it look like we have a freakin' choice?!" Eddy replied irritably.

Steve smiled. "I'll take that as a yes. Hey Roddy, you got any of those 'nades left?"

"Sí!" Rodriguez turned around completely in his seat at the mention of explosives, all concept of steering forgotten.

"Señor, take the wheel!" He added as an afterthought.

"Aaaaaaaagh!" Johnny screamed again and dived for the steering column, somehow managing to prevent a collision with a large rock. "Why are we letting this bloke drive?!"

Steve ignored him. "I'm gonna need all of them. Right now."

The giant Costa Rican unfastened a belt of four concussion grenades from his tactical vest and handed them to Steve. "_Ocho segundos_. Bang… Is very big."

"That's what she said." Eddy couldn't help himself.

The smaller Tyrannosaur roared again.

"¡_Joooooder, por qué no te callas!_" Rodriguez screamed back, elbowing Johnny out of the way and turning back to the pressing task of driving.

"Do you think he thinks they can understand him?" Eddy muttered to no one in particular.

"I don't know what 'e thinks, but 'e's royally pissed, that's for bloody sure. That's one angry Costa Rican." Johnny responded, his knuckles white from gripping the door handle.

"Alright Roddy, get us as close to those big scaly twats as you can."

Rodriguez actually giggled.

_"__¡Muy bueno señor!__"_ He slammed the brakes.

"Aaaaaaaagh!" This time it was both Eddy and Johnny who screamed as the Tyrannosaurs pulled up on either side, emitting ear-shattering roars.

"That close enough for you, señor?" Rodriguez yelled over his shoulder.

"Perfect! Now everyone, hold on to something!"

"I'm already 'olding on to something." Johnny grumbled. Steve pulled the pins.

"Eight!"

_"__¡__Siete__!"_

"Six!"

_"__¡__Cinco__!"_

"Four!"

_"__¡__Tres__!"_

"Two!"

_"__¡__Uno__!"_

"Bombs away!"

Steve flung the grenades out of the jeep and Rodriguez slammed his foot down. The jeep's front two wheels actually left the ground as they shot away from of the two dinosaurs, who had just enough time to exchange a glance of reptilian horror as the grenades ignited in mid-air between them. The explosion was, as promised, very big, and the unfortunate dinosaurs never stood a chance. They were killed instantly as the blast blew them limb from limb. It was just a shame about the jeep.


	13. Team Rodstevez

For a moment, there was complete and utter silence. To Steve's groggy senses, this seemed glorious relief from the spinning, pinwheeling aftermath of the grenade explosion, but it wasn't to last. He gradually began to become aware of a series of small sounds, dragging his mind back to the reality of his bruised and battered body.

_That's proper sore._

First, there was the hiss of the jeep's fractured radiator. Then, a barely audible _creak_ as the front wheels rotated freely. Steve suddenly realised that he was lying at a steep inclination; the nose of the vehicle was tilted skywards at a crazy angle, perhaps propped up on a tree or rock. Finally, the warden felt the weight and warmth of a small body stretched out on top of him, which just beginning to stir and cough violently. With supreme effort, Steve raised himself up and divested himself of the remains of his seatbelt, before also disentangling Tim.

"You okay matey?" Steve's mouth felt as though it were full of sawdust.

"I… Think so." Tim replied when the coughing fit subsided, moving his limbs experimentally. He seemed almost surprised when he found everything still in one piece.

"Yeah, I think so. That was so cool!" He added with his usual toothy grin.

"That's not… How I'd describe it." A figure vaguely resembling Eddy reared up from beneath the seat like some bedraggled Texan rendition of the Loch Ness Monster.

"Steve, you got problems. Serious problems. Remind me to give you the number o' my psychiatrist."

Steve chuckled and helped Tim climb out of the wrecked vehicle, before unfastening a still trembling Lex.

"Is it… Over?" She asked.

"All over. Those particular critters won't bother us again, that's for sure." Steve carefully lifted her out of the jeep, before climbing out himself.

"Everyone okay up front?" He called.

"_¡Beso mi culo, puto! ¡Pendejo! ¡Bastardo!_" Rodriguez shouted happily, kicking the crumpled driver's door clean off its hinges and clambering out.

"Very big bang señor! That what she said, no?" The huge Costa Rican winked conspiratorially at Eddy, who just shook his head in despair and limped over to the boot.

"She did indeed Roddy! Bloody huge bang!" Steve and Rodriguez bumped fists contentedly.

"Get a room you two." Eddy's voice drifted round from the back of the jeep.

"Bloody touching lil' moment we got going on 'ere." A very dishevelled looking Johnny appeared from the passenger seat.

"What we gonna call you two, 'Team Rodstevez'?"

Lex giggled.

"Rodstevez it is, then."

"Whatever." Steve grinned. "Still saved our arses though, right?"

"Yeah, about that." Eddy returned from the boot, dragging the kit bags behind him.

"Next time you and your buddy here decide to blow up two massive goddamn dinosaurs, I'd at least like to be consulted first! You fellas are perfectly welcome to round bombin' whatever the hell you like, but at least do me the courtesy of a heads up so I know when to duck! Is that too much to ask?!"

Rodriguez and Steve exchanged glances.

"No _cajones_, eh señor." The Costa Rican said seriously.

"You got it big man." Steve agreed, struggling to keep a straight face.

"Unbelievable. I'm stuck on an island with a gang of kidnappers, a few hundred dinosaurs, and you fellas." Eddy muttered darkly to himself as he knelt and checked the contents of the backpacks. Lex went to help him.

"Don't fink we're gonna get very far in what's left of this rust bucket." Johnny finished gathering his medical kit and came to join them.

"What's the plan skipper?"

Steve looked around him. They were situated in the midst of a small clump of trees, around twenty feet from the edge of the decaying tarmac road. He didn't recognise it.

"Well, we can't stay here, but we shouldn't travel at night. That'd be asking for trouble, and we don't need to give the…" Steve noticed Tim listening intently to their conversation and paused.

"The… Well, you know, the inhabitants any extra invitation to pay us a visit." He finished diplomatically.

Eddy nodded and got to his feet. "Looks to me like we're somewhere along A7, perhaps A6. If I remember correctly, there should be a couple o' big old rock formations a few hundred yards down that way." The Texan pointed away from the darkened road.

"If we can make it there, it'd be an easily defensible campsite. 'Till first light, at least. We've got the bivvies with us, plus one spare." Eddy avoided all mention of the scientist's demise.

"Works for me." Steve agreed. "Anyone got any objections?"

The others shook their heads.

"Right then, grab your packs. Lead on Eddy. Stay close. Shoot on sight."


	14. Ordeal

_It's dark. Very dark. So dark, in fact, that Tim can't tell if his eyes are open or if he's still asleep. He's suddenly scared. Very, very scared. His breath comes in short, sharp gasps as he frantically begins to explore his surroundings by touch alone, desperately searching for something tangible – anything to prove he's not completely lost in the pitch black ether; forgotten, abandoned, alone. At last, he clasps something, but his momentary relief quickly turns to an icy dread gnawing at the pit of his stomach – his finding is cold, scaly, squishy. He withdraws his hand with reactions sharpened by horror, but alas, it's already too late. From somewhere uncomfortably nearby, an ear-piercing, inhuman scream rings out. And then, again; it's getting closer. Panicking, Tim tries to get to his feet, but finds his limbs stiff and seized to the point of immobility. He tries again, frantically struggling against the impenetrable, insufferable, suffocating darkness. His body screams out in silent protest and a sharp pain abruptly scythes through his chest, compelling him to cease his escape efforts and remain motionless once more. He bites his lip and forces himself to remain silent, but his heart sounds as if it must be pounding outside of his body; he's sure it will give him away. He knows it's out there somewhere; an unseen evil concealed deep under the blanket of darkness. God, how he hates the dark. He hates it more than anything. The dark is wicked, the dark is his enemy – the dark wants nothing but to bring him more pain, terror and despair. And so when he hears the footsteps approach, he's barely surprised. He's almost resigned to his fate as he listens to the repetitive thudding sounds, each followed by a barely audible scrape – Tim's mind calmly informs him that this is the noise of the creature's thumb claw dragging along the floor. Then, at last, the footsteps stop. The creature must be right beside him, bent over its helpless prey. He trembles as he feels its hot breath on his face and flinches as something brushes against his shoulder; he screws his fists up tight and does his best to stay completely still as the creature begins to explore his body with its claws, talons scraping roughly across his bare skin. Perhaps it will leave him alone, he hopes. Perhaps it has already eaten. Perhaps it'll think him dead. But alas, almost predictably, Tim has no such luck. Slowly, something begins to envelop his feet; a horrible, crawling sensation that sends a shiver running down his spine. It takes every fibre of his being to stay strong, to stay still as the poking, prying creepers advance up his legs. As they reach his waist and begin to work their way across his torso, the burning starts. Within seconds, he abandons all pretence of stillness and writhes around in agony, frantically struggling to shake the stinging tendrils from his body. As the pain reaches his shoulders and encircles his neck, he cries out in terror. It's hopeless. He's going to die. Utterly alone, at the claws of the terrible abomination lurking in the dark. Then the crawling reaches his chin and somehow forces its way into his mouth, filling him up as he tastes the musky flavour of his impending demise. He starts to choke and closes his eyes, desperate not to give the creature the final satisfaction of his tears. But then it reaches his nose, and even the luxury of breath is gone. He faces the horror of feeling himself suffocating, and at last he can no longer hold back the tears. There's nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. A prisoner in this dark, dank dungeon, at the mercy of the devil himself. Nobody can save him now. Tim is alone._

Steve was sitting by the banked up campfire, shotgun resting across his knees. He took a thoughtful swig from the water flask that sat beside him and checked his watch once again.

_Almost dawn. Thank God for that._

The rock formation had, as promised, been not more than a few hundred yards away from their crash site. The journey had been uneventful, although a tad on the nervy side, as Rodriguez had insisted on checking behind every tree for what he dramatically referred to as the 'little monster _pendejos_'. Upon arrival, they had constructed a small campfire on the windward side of the boulders and opened a couple of tins of baked beans. This meal was mainly for the benefit of the two children as the others had eaten before leaving the lodge and Johnny had also offered the kids the remainder of his homemade bread, but they politely declined, much to Eddy and Steve's amusement.

_Wise beyond their years. That stuff has more confirmed kills than the Red Baron._

When the food was finished and Eddy, Tim and Lex's injuries properly seen to, it was decided that the best thing to do would be to let the children catch a few hours sleep before dawn. It would be safer to make their way to the helipad in the light, and besides, the kids were in no fit state to travel – for that matter, neither was Eddy. They had therefore erected the one-man bivouacs (including that belonging to the late Mr Smith, although the children didn't know this) and turned in for the night, with Steve volunteering to keep first watch. Johnny had given the warden strict instructions to wake him up for his shift in two hours, but Steve had no such plans – he had no desire to sleep at all while on the _Isla Nublar _if he could possibly avoid it. The warden's current habit was to stay awake for long periods at a time, allowing exhaustion to set in eventually allowing him to drift off into a dreamless state of unconsciousness. The last thing he wanted was to have another of those nightmares here; it was important that he remained alert, kept a clear head and was ready to defend the children at a moment's notice. They were his responsibility now, and under his team's personal protection – something worth infinitely more to Steve than a few hours of interrupted sleep.

_Time enough to catch up on some shut-eye later._

Steve yawned, stretched, and counted out his shotgun shells for the umpteenth time. Predictably, the total hadn't changed since the last iteration. He packed them away carefully into his ammo pouch, pulled out his pistol and began to polish it with the cloth he carried in his right-hand trouser pocket.

Just as he was tackling a particularly nasty blemish on the side of the barrel, a barely audible sound instantly made him freeze. He slowed his breathing instinctively and pricked up his ears, hand unmoving on the grip of his weapon. There it was again; a soft, strangled cry, originating from somewhere over by the tents. Steve swiftly rose to his feet, sliding his pistol back into its holster and drawing his torch from his belt. His keen hearing detected the noise a third time, and on this occasion he was able to locate its whereabouts – it was coming from the tent at the far end of the line.

_Tim's tent._

Gliding over the ground with an effortless silence only a born hunter can achieve, Steve reached the bivouac in a matter of seconds and, muffling the glare of the torch with his left hand, ducked inside.

Tim was laying half in, half out of his oversized sleeping bag, twisting and turning restlessly as he slept. As Steve knelt down beside him, the boy let out another frightened cry and began to writhe feverishly, as if struggling to escape from some unseen foe. He whimpered quietly as Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently, feeling that the boy's t-shirt was soaked with sweat as he did so. A moment later, Tim's moans ceased and he came to with a start, an involuntary gasp escaping him as he jerked awake. He stared up at Steve with wide eyes for a moment.

"S… S… Steve?" He whispered.

"I'm right here, Timmy." Steve smiled down at him and tenderly brushed the boy's blond curls off his forehead. He kept his hand there for a moment, feeling Tim's pulse as it thudded against his palm. "Bad dream?"

Tim nodded a little, eyes still fixed on Steve.

"It's okay matey. You're safe now. I'm gonna take care of you, alright?"

Tim nodded again, this time managing a small smile in acknowledgement. Steve squeezed his shoulder reassuringly and again left his hand there, holding Tim's gaze until he felt the boy's breathing begin to slow.

"There's a good lad. Now, try and get some more sleep. I'll be right outside." Steve went to get up. Tim reached out suddenly and clutched at the warden's hand, but then dropped it quickly, embarrassed.

"Actually, you know what? I'd like to hear about it." Steve returned to his kneeling position as if he hadn't noticed Tim's gesture and had simply changed his mind. The boy was grateful for both the discretion and the company and sat up a little too quickly, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his injured ribs. A slight frown crossed Steve's features, but he said nothing.

"It's… Like… Always the same one." Tim began hesitantly. "I can never… Sort of… Get away. There's… A thing. A really bad thing. Waiting for me, in the dark somewhere." He paused and cast a sidelong glance at Steve to see how this information was being received. Normally when he brought up his nightmares with adults, he got the feeling he wasn't being taken seriously. It was almost like he was considered too old for bad dreams; too old for the monsters under his bed. However, judging by his expression, the warden seemed genuinely interested.

"Then it… Kind of… Comes for me." Tim continued. "It's usually bad, but this time it was worse. It's got, like, claws and teeth, and… And it tries to eat me, and then… Then…" The boy trailed off, his breathing began to quicken out of control once again as he thought. Tim's small shoulders began to quiver as he desperately tried not to let the creature that haunted his every night take hold.

"That must be really scary, Timmy." Steve said seriously, taking a seat beside the boy and gently sliding his arm around his shoulders. Tim forgot about his embarrassment and immediately nestled closer, tucking his head into the warmth and security of the warden's shoulder. They stayed like that for a moment before Steve spoke soothingly.

"Do you know why we have nightmares matey?"

"N… N… No." This wasn't something that was really covered in Fifth Grade biology.

"It's so we can make sense of things we've seen. It's like a metaphor – you know what a metaphor is Tim?

"I… I… I think so." The boy replied.

"Good man. But look, I'm gonna let you into a little secret – those nightmares? I get them too, you know."

"You… You do?" Tim sounded taken aback, as if he had previously assumed the teenager beside him incapable of such moments of weakness.

"Oh yeah, all the time." Steve continued. "And mine are just like yours; I can never run away either."

"But… But you kill monsters, I've seen you! Why're you scared of them?"

"Oh, I'm not scared of monsters – they're mostly scared of me. What I'm scared of is… Well, men in suits. With ties. Like, stripy, lawyer ties. Proper terrifying, they are."

Tim smiled despite himself. "Why're lawyer ties so scary?"

"To be completely honest matey, I think it's something to do with the blokes wearing them." Steve chuckled back. "But you get my point – there's nothing wrong with having nightmares, it's perfectly natural. We're all scared of something, and that's nothing to be ashamed of – for me it's lawyers, for you it's terrifying ravenous monsters with sharp claws. But the next time you have a nightmare and you wake up scared, just think of it like a metaphor – the dark room is a metaphor for your room, and the monster is a metaphor for your mum yelling at you for not cleaning it. Okay?"

Tim nodded and giggled a little at this last part, his expression the picture of admiration. "Okay. Thanks Steve."

"You're more than welcome."

Steve assessed the situation; it would be light soon, and time for them to head off to the helipad. He looked back at Tim – the youngster seemed calm now, but he had a feeling he wouldn't be going back to sleep any time soon.

"Tell you what, let's go outside and get you out of those wet clothes – we can sort you out something to drink too. The sun'll be up soon, then we can go home."

Tim gave his customary toothy grin of approval.

"Alright then. Bring your sleeping bag, it's still quite chilly out."

They crept out of the tent, Tim still wrapped in his voluminous sleeping bag, and made their way over to the fire. Steve stoked the flames with a fresh piece of firewood and put some water on to boil, then went over to his pack and pulled out a clean t-shirt.

"There you go matey. We ain't half getting through these." He handed it to Tim.

The boy slipped off his wet shirt and dried himself as best he could with a fold of his sleeping bag. As he worked on the fire, Steve couldn't help but notice the bruises that were already spreading across Tim's eleven-year-old torso. A hot stab of anger welled up in the warden's chest, but he suppressed it for now; vengeance had been partially served, and the remainder would no doubt be in the pipeline before the week was out. Right now though, his priority was getting them all off the island in one piece.

"How you feeling Timmy?" Steve asked brightly.

"Better." Tim replied, then winced as he pulled the clean shirt over his head. "But still a bit sore." He admitted.

Steve winked at him and poured the water into two tin mugs, placing a hot chocolate pouch in one and a teabag in the other.

"I'll bet you are." He handed the hot chocolate to Tim. The boy took a sip of the scalding drink and closed his eyes appreciatively.

"That's really nice." He murmured.

"Not bad, eh? Found that in an old cupboard in the canteen." Steve took a mouthful of his own drink. "So tell me matey, what's life been like since we last hung out? Still into your natural history?"

Tim took another sip before answering Steve's question. "It's been okay. I've been staying at Mom's house a lot. I like it there, it's kinda close to the museums." He paused to take another drink. Steve did the same, allowing himself a quiet smile as he did so.

_He likes it because it's close to the museums. One hell of a kid. What did he do to deserve ending up here?_

"I've been going there a lot." Tim continued. "I'm sure they made a mistake with the Triceratops. In all the pictures it's painted sorta orange, but the one at the park was more… Greyer. I told the curator all about it, but he called my Mom and she took me home. Grandpa said I shouldn't tell anyone about the dinosaurs after that." He stopped and took another sip mournfully.

Steve chuckled. "I bet he did. So how's the family? What's Lex been up to?"

"They're good. Lex just made the softball team – she's playing big league next year. Dad's very proud." Tim stared down into his mug. "I didn't make the team."

"Unlucky matey. We can't all be good at sports." Steve consoled.

"It's bad though, 'cos I think Dad would've been really happy if I'd made the team. He always says I should try harder at sports. I did try really hard." Tim added hastily. "He thinks I'm too old to be reading books about dinosaurs. He says they're for little kids."

"But Doctor Grant doesn't think they're for little kids, does he? Or your Grandpa? He knows all about dinosaurs, and he's really, really old..." Steve couldn't resist this thinly-veiled jibe at Hammond.

"Yeah…" Tim wasn't convinced. "But if I was good at sports, then… I think, maybe… Maybe Dad wouldn't have gone away."

"And how on earth did you work that one out?"

"'Cos then Dad would be proud of me too and wouldn't want to go away, and we'd go to practice all the time and he wouldn't shout at Mom so much. They shout a lot when he's at home." Tim replied. This was obviously something he entirely believed.

"Look Timmy, I think me and you need to have a little chat when we get out of here. Maybe your Grandpa too. But in the meantime, promise me you'll stop beating yourself up about this. A lot of people care about you, more than you know. We came halfway around the world to find you, and we wouldn't have done that if we thought you weren't the bravest, cleverest, coolest lad ever to pick up a book on Raptors. And speaking of which…" Steve fished around in his pocket.

"Ta for the pressie." He pulled out Tim's old dinosaur spotter's guide, left at his hospital bedside two years ago. The boy's eyes lit up.

"You kept it!" He exclaimed. Then, "You didn't come and see me."

"Long story matey. But to cut it short, after the park closed down, I had nowhere to go. Ended up hanging out back home in 'ol Britannia, but was a bit short on cash. Well, really short actually. Could only just afford a place to stay. Otherwise I would have come and looked you up, honest. I was going to tell you all about those Brachies."

Tim looked appalled. "You had nowhere to live? Couldn't you stay with your Mom and Dad? Didn't my Grandpa help you? 'Britannia' means England, right?"

"I'm afraid they're dead matey. My Dad was head warden at this place you see – he didn't make it out that night. I did ask your Grandpa, but I'm afraid his company were a little bit less than helpful."

Tim was apparently lost for words. "I'm… s-s-sorry… Steve… I… I d-d-didn't know…"

"Hey, it's okay matey. Not your fault at all, you weren't to know. He died doing what he loved, and that's good enough for me." This was most certainly _not_ good enough for Steve, but now was neither the time nor the place.

"I'll… I'll go talk to Grandpa as soon as we get back… He must've made a mistake. Then you can come and stay with us, we've got a spare room and we can go to the natural history museum and to the cinema and you can take me to the park to watch Lex 'cos I can only go with a grown up but you're old enough and, and…" Tim paused for breath. Steve chuckled.

"That sounds amazing, Timmy. But as much as I'd love to, I'm afraid I couldn't possibly. You and your family don't owe me anything, and plus, I don't think your Grandpa would approve."

"I don't care. You're coming to stay with us. You can have the back room, or if Mom says you're can't, you can come and camp in mine. Dinner is at five-thirty."

Steve shook his head with a smile but decided to play along. "Alright matey, you got me. Let's do it."

Tim was just about to celebrate when something about Steve's expression made him stop. The warden had frozen completely motionless; mug stopped halfway to his lips. His eyes had locked onto a point somewhere directly behind where Tim was sitting. When Steve finally spoke, he did so softly and somehow without moving his lips.

"Timmy, I need you to stay calm and keep absolutely still."

"What… What is it?" Tim asked, a horrible feeling welling up in the pit of his stomach.

"When I tell you, you must not under any circumstances look over your shoulder. Understand?"

"Y-y-yes." Tim's voice wobbled and the poor boy sounded utterly petrified once more, but Steve knew this was unavoidable – it was either he was brutally honest, or they both got eaten alive.

_And I'd rather not get eaten alive._

"Okay, good lad. Deep breaths for me, just try and stay calm. Now, there's a small Velociraptor sitting about fifty yards behind that tent. I'm not sure if he's about to attack or just watching us, but it won't be long before we find out."

"Okay… Okay…" Tim tried to control his breathing as instructed, and succeeded up to a point. Steve had no choice but to drop his next bombshell.

"Look matey, I'll be honest – my shotgun won't shoot that far, and I haven't got a clear shot with that tent in the way. I'm going to need to get just a little bit closer and move out of the way of those tents."

"You're g-g-going?" Tim started to panic, but used all the self-control he could muster to keep his voice down low. "Don't go, p-p-please don't g-g-go, p-p-please."

"Listen to me Timmy. I promised I'd look after you, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. I'm just going a few yards into the jungle over there to get a clean shot. I promise I won't have gone far, and I'll be able to see you at all times. Now, if I'm not back in five minutes, I want you to run as fast as you can and wake up Mr Rodriguez. Are we clear?"

"P-p-please can you just sh-sh-shoot from h-h-here, p-p-please?"

"I've told you matey, I'm afraid my gun won't shoot that far. I'd stay right here if there was any way I possibly could, I really would. But I need to kill that Raptor before he comes and hurts you and any of the others, okay? I just need you to trust me, the same as last time? Trust me?"

Tim hesitated for more precious seconds. Seconds that could save or lose lives. Steve decided to take drastic measures and slipped his pistol out of its holster.

"Alright Tim, you see this? This is an M1911-A1 standard issue semi-automatic pistol. It fires seven rounds of .45 calibre ACP Hollow Point ammunition at eight-hundred and thirty feet per second. It can make a hole in a person, animal or dinosaur up to twenty-eight inches deep, and it's your new best friend. You ever fired a gun before?"

"N-n-no."

_I thought all yanks knew how to shoot?_

"Well that's okay, it's really simple. It's ready to go, all you have to do is hold the grip with both hands, point it in the general direction of the baddie and pull the trigger. Just make sure it actually _is_ a baddie, and not just me coming back. Here you go."

Steve offered the weapon to the youngster. Tim didn't take it.

"B-b-but… B-b-but…"

"Here, you won't even have to use it. It's just holding it'll make you feel better, believe me. And you know that while you've got my pistol, I won't be far away. Here."

At last, Tim reached out a trembling hand and took it gingerly.

"Good lad. Stay strong for me, and I'll be back before you know it. _Ewe Mola tuepushe na mahasidi._"

Before Tim could reply, Steve had melted away into the jungle, shotgun in hand. Shivering despite the warmth of his sleeping bag, Tim brandished the pistol and, imagining the cold yellow eyes of the Velociraptor boring into the back of his skull, forced himself to concentrate on counting the sparks flying from the embers of the camp fire.

Steve was crawling on his belly through the undergrowth, silently sliding his shotgun in front of him. He would never have admitted it to anyone, least of all Tim, but he was scared. Very scared. Of all people, Steve knew exactly what the Raptors were capable of, and who knew what kind of genetically-engineered weaponry this particular specimen had in store. Walkie-talkies, perhaps? Infrared vision? A portable missile launcher? He hated to imagine, almost as much as he hated lying to Tim. Despite his promises, he knew only too well that the solid-slug shotgun rounds loaded into his SPAS-12 were very limited in range – so much so that, for them to be effective, he would have to get up close and personal. Uncomfortably up close and personal. Steve had briefly toyed with the idea of sounding the alarm and waking the others, but this would have most likely been suicidal and they would've all been dead before they could so much as rub the sleep out of their eyes. What's more, he had no idea of what the Raptor wanted; whether its pack had surrounded the tents in preparation for an attack, or whether this one had simply chanced upon their camp and was investigating. Either way, the only way out he could see was taking the Raptor down first before it struck and endangered the others. And if indeed the tents were surrounded, well, he would just have to hope that the Raptor pack was as cowardly as its modern-day feline counterpart.

_Fingers bloody crossed, anyway._

Muttering a quick Swahili prayer under his breath, Steve crept ever closer to where he'd last seen the dinosaur lurking. He had never been particularly religious, but as the saying goes, there's no such thing as an Atheist in a foxhole. It's no use taking any chances when your time comes. Or when you'd like to make your time come a little later, for that matter. The brief segment of Swahili he had spoken to Tim was a popular saying among the deeply devout Kenyan people, roughly translating as 'Lord save us from the evil ones'. And if these Raptors weren't evil, he didn't know what was.

After roughly thirty more seconds of crawling, Steve paused. By his reckoning, dinosaur should now be no more than a few yards away – easily within the effective range of his shotgun. Sliding the pump-action on his weapon back and forth, he swiftly rose up on one knee and raised the weapon to his shoulder in a single movement. But while peering down the sights in preparation for a clean kill, Steve came to a sudden realisation. The Raptor wasn't there. Puzzled, the warden quickly dropped down to the ground again and lay prone as he mulled this finding over.

_Could I have misjudged the distance? No, no, I can't have. That's definitely the palm it was standing under, with the broken branch a few feet up._

Electing to investigate further, Steve began to crawl forward again. He soon reached the spot where he was sure the Raptor had been standing and began to search for clues, but alas, it seemed to have vanished into thin air. There was not so much as a crushed tussock of swamp grass to suggest it had ever existed. Steve stood up and cast around in disbelief.

_Surely I couldn't have just imagined it. Mind can't play tricks like that._

***crack***

Then, as if to confirm this sentiment, a slight sound originating from somewhere behind jerked him away from his thoughts.

_That crafty bugger. Someone's got big feet._

Steve threw up his shotgun and span around to face the noise, dropping to one knee and flicked his weapon into semi-automatic mode. This low defensive stance had been developed by the roving park ranger teams at Malliway, and exploited the fact that larger predators often liked to leap for their prey at head height and force it onto the floor for easier disembowelment. Starting off well-braced and low to the ground allowed the ranger to unleash a few shots from a steady firing position, before ducking down underneath and evading the charging animal. At least, that was the theory. And it may have even worked, had he not been aiming at nothing once again.

_What?! I could've sworn…_

***crack***

The sound came from directly behind him again. He reflexively span and sighted down his shotgun, but once more, there was nothing there.

***crack***

It came from behind him yet again. A horrible realisation dawned upon him as he dutifully span round a third time and gazed into the empty jungle.

_It's toying with me._

As unpleasant as this notion was, it did however give Steve a few more options. If the Raptor was simply seeking to play with its food, then it not only meant that it was acting alone and had not surrounded the camp, but also that Steve was suddenly in a position of power – he could control where the twisted game of cat-and-mouse played out. If he was to lead the Raptor away from the camp, chances are it would leave the sleeping occupants well alone.

_Sounds like a plan._

Steve abruptly started out into the jungle in the opposite direction to the camp, taking care to scan around with his shotgun as he moved. While he was taking on a mission somewhat akin to self-sacrifice, he had no intention of going down without a fight. If he managed to overpower the Raptor, then great; if he didn't, then at least he'd have led it away from the camp and given Tim more time to wake the others.

***crack***

_Excellent. It's following me._

This ominous sound was ironically the best thing Steve could have heard.

_Let's hope this works… Stay sharp._

He continued forging a path into the jungle for an indeterminate amount of time, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead from his excertions. He thought he must have walked about half a mile when he came upon what appeared to be some form of hunting track – a path forged by the passage of wild animals going about their nightly business. Not having the time to properly consider the consequences, he turned right and followed it for not more than a minute or two. It twisted, turned and then abruptly widened into a huge shallow pit of not more than a foot in depth, but concealed deep within a thick copse of palms and native vegetation. Curious and not having time to stop, Steve pressed forward into the muddy clearing, until the sight that met his eyes gave him no choice but to cease his progress and stare in jaw-dropping wonderment. There, half-buried in the centre of the pit, was a huge mud ball, akin somewhat to some freakishly huge wasp's nest. But contained within this enclosure were eggs. Hundreds and hundreds of eggs. And Raptors. A good dozen or so young Velociraptors, ranging from new-born hatchling to nearly-grown juvenile. Some where play fighting, others gnawing on the clay walls of their nests, others tucking into the remains of some hapless animal that had ill-advisedly wondered into their lair.

_My god. It's a hive. They're breeding like rabbits._

And that was when the world went black.


End file.
